I'm sitting cozily in my grandma's Tokyo apartment, eating very fat toast (it's a thing, here) and watching saucer-sized snowflakes falling. The snow is like a Californian's stereotype image of snow, thick and floaty and so impossibly large that if I were art-directing this scene, I'd have the crew ease up because it's unrealistic.
A couple thousand miles south of me though, things aren't so placid. If you own a TV or ears you know about the 9.0 earthquake and tsunami that followed it. You might have heard that the epicenter was off the coast of Indonesia, and one of the hardest struck places was Aceh, a region close to my heart.
We had CNN on most of the past few days, and it's amazing to me that with all of the reports coming in from Aceh, none mention the 30 year civil war there.
A few years ago I wrote a story about the collision of big petroleum interests, the Indonesian military and the separatist movement based in Aceh. Here's the rough summary: Aceh has been wanting independence from Indonesia ever since it was colonialized by the Dutch. It happened to have huge natural gas reserves and so a joint company between Mobil Oil and Pertamina, the Indonesian national oil company, was formed. As in so many of these scenarios, all of the profits go straight to the central government and the locals are left with pollution and subsistance farming and --here's the rub-- the Indonesian military that is ostensibly "protecting" the gas plants.
The Indonesian military is corrupt, to say the least. Since the government doesn't fully provide its operational budget, it is left to create enterprises to make up the shortfall --and it does, in the form of shakedowns, brothels, and other illegal operations. The Free Aceh Movement, GAM, has been conducting guerilla style tactics for the last thirty years; the military retaliates by terrorizing villagers, disappearing possible insurgents, and in general making a bad name for itself. Think mass graves, villages abandoned in fear, babies burned to death, and other such unspeakable horror and you get the picture of what Acehnese have been living with for decades.
Mobil oil has been sued in U.S. courts for collusion with the military --providing arms and equipment and knowingly supporting a military accused of torture and murder. Fighting continues to this day.
Add to this an earthquake and tsunami, and you can only imagine the chaos that is still going on. My sources say that the fighting continues in spite of the devastation, and not all of the deaths in recent days can be blamed on the natural disaster.
Even without the war, the death toll is mounting like mad. One official estimated that the body count in Aceh alone might go as high as 100,000 and it will take at least two weeks for NGOs get the manpower and equipment necessary to commence organized aid.
At least NGOs and reporters have been allowed in --for a while foreign aid and journalists were virtually banned, and then strictly controlled. I only hope that with the spotlight of the world on the region, people start reporting on the strife that has plagued the region for far longer than this catastrophe.
In the meantime, we in our cozy, toast-filled worlds would do well to help those living under tarp and fear.
International Medical Corp is concentrating efforts in Aceh, and they could use your cash very well. A very extensive list of other NGOs is here.
PS: my apologies for missing my blogging day --I was playing in the snow.
Posted by jennifer at 6:06 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
I'm sitting cozily in my grandma's Tokyo apartment, eating very fat toast (it's a thing, here) and watching saucer-sized snowflakes falling. The snow is like a Californian's stereotype image of snow, thick and floaty and so impossibly large that if I were art-directing this scene, I'd have the crew ease up because it's unrealistic.
A couple thousand miles south of me though, things aren't so placid. If you own a TV or ears you know about the 9.0 earthquake and tsunami that followed it. You might have heard that the epicenter was off the coast of Indonesia, and one of the hardest struck places was Aceh, a region close to my heart.
We had CNN on most of the past few days, and it's amazing to me that with all of the reports coming in from Aceh, none mention the 30 year civil war there.
A few years ago I wrote a story about the collision of big petroleum interests, the Indonesian military and the separatist movement based in Aceh. Here's the rough summary: Aceh has been wanting independence from Indonesia ever since it was colonialized by the Dutch. It happened to have huge natural gas reserves and so a joint company between Mobil Oil and Pertamina, the Indonesian national oil company, was formed. As in so many of these scenarios, all of the profits go straight to the central government and the locals are left with pollution and subsistance farming and --here's the rub-- the Indonesian military that is ostensibly "protecting" the gas plants.
The Indonesian military is corrupt, to say the least. Since the government doesn't fully provide its operational budget, it is left to create enterprises to make up the shortfall --and it does, in the form of shakedowns, brothels, and other illegal operations. The Free Aceh Movement, GAM, has been conducting guerilla style tactics for the last thirty years; the military retaliates by terrorizing villagers, disappearing possible insurgents, and in general making a bad name for itself. Think mass graves, villages abandoned in fear, babies burned to death, and other such unspeakable horror and you get the picture of what Acehnese have been living with for decades.
Mobil oil has been sued in U.S. courts for collusion with the military --providing arms and equipment and knowingly supporting a military accused of torture and murder. Fighting continues to this day.
Add to this an earthquake and tsunami, and you can only imagine the chaos that is still going on. My sources say that the fighting continues in spite of the devastation, and not all of the deaths in recent days can be blamed on the natural disaster.
Even without the war, the death toll is mounting like mad. One official estimated that the body count in Aceh alone might go as high as 100,000 and it will take at least two weeks for NGOs get the manpower and equipment necessary to commence organized aid.
At least NGOs and reporters have been allowed in --for a while foreign aid and journalists were virtually banned, and then strictly controlled. I only hope that with the spotlight of the world on the region, people start reporting on the strife that has plagued the region for far longer than this catastrophe.
In the meantime, we in our cozy, toast-filled worlds would do well to help those living under tarp and fear.
International Medical Corp is concentrating efforts in Aceh, and they could use your cash very well. A very extensive list of other NGOs is here.
PS: my apologies for missing my blogging day --I was playing in the snow.
Posted by jennifer at 6:06 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
I'm sitting cozily in my grandma's Tokyo apartment, eating very fat toast (it's a thing, here) and watching saucer-sized snowflakes falling. The snow is like a Californian's stereotype image of snow, thick and floaty and so impossibly large that if I were art-directing this scene, I'd have the crew ease up because it's unrealistic.
A couple thousand miles south of me though, things aren't so placid. If you own a TV or ears you know about the 9.0 earthquake and tsunami that followed it. You might have heard that the epicenter was off the coast of Indonesia, and one of the hardest struck places was Aceh, a region close to my heart.
We had CNN on most of the past few days, and it's amazing to me that with all of the reports coming in from Aceh, none mention the 30 year civil war there.
A few years ago I wrote a story about the collision of big petroleum interests, the Indonesian military and the separatist movement based in Aceh. Here's the rough summary: Aceh has been wanting independence from Indonesia ever since it was colonialized by the Dutch. It happened to have huge natural gas reserves and so a joint company between Mobil Oil and Pertamina, the Indonesian national oil company, was formed. As in so many of these scenarios, all of the profits go straight to the central government and the locals are left with pollution and subsistance farming and --here's the rub-- the Indonesian military that is ostensibly "protecting" the gas plants.
The Indonesian military is corrupt, to say the least. Since the government doesn't fully provide its operational budget, it is left to create enterprises to make up the shortfall --and it does, in the form of shakedowns, brothels, and other illegal operations. The Free Aceh Movement, GAM, has been conducting guerilla style tactics for the last thirty years; the military retaliates by terrorizing villagers, disappearing possible insurgents, and in general making a bad name for itself. Think mass graves, villages abandoned in fear, babies burned to death, and other such unspeakable horror and you get the picture of what Acehnese have been living with for decades.
Mobil oil has been sued in U.S. courts for collusion with the military --providing arms and equipment and knowingly supporting a military accused of torture and murder. Fighting continues to this day.
Add to this an earthquake and tsunami, and you can only imagine the chaos that is still going on. My sources say that the fighting continues in spite of the devastation, and not all of the deaths in recent days can be blamed on the natural disaster.
Even without the war, the death toll is mounting like mad. One official estimated that the body count in Aceh alone might go as high as 100,000 and it will take at least two weeks for NGOs get the manpower and equipment necessary to commence organized aid.
At least NGOs and reporters have been allowed in --for a while foreign aid and journalists were virtually banned, and then strictly controlled. I only hope that with the spotlight of the world on the region, people start reporting on the strife that has plagued the region for far longer than this catastrophe.
In the meantime, we in our cozy, toast-filled worlds would do well to help those living under tarp and fear.
International Medical Corp is concentrating efforts in Aceh, and they could use your cash very well. A very extensive list of other NGOs is here.
PS: my apologies for missing my blogging day --I was playing in the snow.
Posted by jennifer at 6:06 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
I hope everyone had Happy Holidays. I've been enjoying time with my family, even though I've been sick as a dog for the past week and a half. Turns out I had a cold that morphed into strep throat and an ear infection, and I contaminated most of my cousins. (Well, I don't take all the credit. My younger cousin Erika [Hyphen's Issue 5 "presidential candidate"] has been sick; the two of us have wreaked sickness upon the Ednalino cousins.)
I'm still sick, taking bootlegged pharmaceuticals (long story) to kill the bacteria. The hearing in my right ear is muffled and I feel a pain in the back of my head whenever I cough. But, hey, at least I'm not the only one who's sick!
Despite my being sick or they're coming down with something, my cousins and I will attempt to bring in the New Year in Las Vegas. We check into our hotel this afternoon, matter of fact. I hope my cousin Camille (who is visiting from Australia) has fun. She's been having quite an experience in the States, learning etiquette, customs, driving on the "wrong" side of the street with her international driver's license, and soaking in the horrible radio music.
My cousins and I took Camille to the Gaslamp District the other evening. Camille bought a round of drinks and didn't tip the bartender (she didn't know about tipping). When we tried to get another round of drinks later in the evening, the bartender ignored us and Camille felt horribly about the faux pas. The other night my cousins and I took Camille to the mall to buy things at Victoria's Secret (they don't have Victoria's Secret in Australia) and Camille asked me, "Ate (pronounced "ah-teh," it means "big sister"), do I have to tip at Victoria's Secret?"
I don't know why, but I thought that was the cutest, most innocent thing I'd heard in the longest time. The image that came to mind was like, "Dolla-dolla bill, y'all!"
But I digress.
One thing that I find really interesting about my cousin Camille is that she "seems" less corrupt(ed) than me or our other cousins. Taking into account "The Tipping Incident" and some of the things she says/does, it makes me wonder if Australia is "backward" (even though I don't like to use the word "backward"). I suppose the right word to use would be more "naive," yeah?
Posted by Audrey at 12:41 AM | Comments (8) | TrackBack
I hope everyone had Happy Holidays. I've been enjoying time with my family, even though I've been sick as a dog for the past week and a half. Turns out I had a cold that morphed into strep throat and an ear infection, and I contaminated most of my cousins. (Well, I don't take all the credit. My younger cousin Erika [Hyphen's Issue 5 "presidential candidate"] has been sick; the two of us have wreaked sickness upon the Ednalino cousins.)
I'm still sick, taking bootlegged pharmaceuticals (long story) to kill the bacteria. The hearing in my right ear is muffled and I feel a pain in the back of my head whenever I cough. But, hey, at least I'm not the only one who's sick!
Despite my being sick or they're coming down with something, my cousins and I will attempt to bring in the New Year in Las Vegas. We check into our hotel this afternoon, matter of fact. I hope my cousin Camille (who is visiting from Australia) has fun. She's been having quite an experience in the States, learning etiquette, customs, driving on the "wrong" side of the street with her international driver's license, and soaking in the horrible radio music.
My cousins and I took Camille to the Gaslamp District the other evening. Camille bought a round of drinks and didn't tip the bartender (she didn't know about tipping). When we tried to get another round of drinks later in the evening, the bartender ignored us and Camille felt horribly about the faux pas. The other night my cousins and I took Camille to the mall to buy things at Victoria's Secret (they don't have Victoria's Secret in Australia) and Camille asked me, "Ate (pronounced "ah-teh," it means "big sister"), do I have to tip at Victoria's Secret?"
I don't know why, but I thought that was the cutest, most innocent thing I'd heard in the longest time. The image that came to mind was like, "Dolla-dolla bill, y'all!"
But I digress.
One thing that I find really interesting about my cousin Camille is that she "seems" less corrupt(ed) than me or our other cousins. Taking into account "The Tipping Incident" and some of the things she says/does, it makes me wonder if Australia is "backward" (even though I don't like to use the word "backward"). I suppose the right word to use would be more "naive," yeah?
Posted by Audrey at 12:41 AM | Comments (8) | TrackBack
I hope everyone had Happy Holidays. I've been enjoying time with my family, even though I've been sick as a dog for the past week and a half. Turns out I had a cold that morphed into strep throat and an ear infection, and I contaminated most of my cousins. (Well, I don't take all the credit. My younger cousin Erika [Hyphen's Issue 5 "presidential candidate"] has been sick; the two of us have wreaked sickness upon the Ednalino cousins.)
I'm still sick, taking bootlegged pharmaceuticals (long story) to kill the bacteria. The hearing in my right ear is muffled and I feel a pain in the back of my head whenever I cough. But, hey, at least I'm not the only one who's sick!
Despite my being sick or they're coming down with something, my cousins and I will attempt to bring in the New Year in Las Vegas. We check into our hotel this afternoon, matter of fact. I hope my cousin Camille (who is visiting from Australia) has fun. She's been having quite an experience in the States, learning etiquette, customs, driving on the "wrong" side of the street with her international driver's license, and soaking in the horrible radio music.
My cousins and I took Camille to the Gaslamp District the other evening. Camille bought a round of drinks and didn't tip the bartender (she didn't know about tipping). When we tried to get another round of drinks later in the evening, the bartender ignored us and Camille felt horribly about the faux pas. The other night my cousins and I took Camille to the mall to buy things at Victoria's Secret (they don't have Victoria's Secret in Australia) and Camille asked me, "Ate (pronounced "ah-teh," it means "big sister"), do I have to tip at Victoria's Secret?"
I don't know why, but I thought that was the cutest, most innocent thing I'd heard in the longest time. The image that came to mind was like, "Dolla-dolla bill, y'all!"
But I digress.
One thing that I find really interesting about my cousin Camille is that she "seems" less corrupt(ed) than me or our other cousins. Taking into account "The Tipping Incident" and some of the things she says/does, it makes me wonder if Australia is "backward" (even though I don't like to use the word "backward"). I suppose the right word to use would be more "naive," yeah?
Posted by Audrey at 12:41 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
Back in Texas. Houston, my hometown. Everything, as always, is under construction. I can't remember a time when the giant concrete ribbon of freeways weren't torn up or haf built, pillars like cut-off trunks of trees reaching up to nowhere. There's lot of car decals here in the shape of yellow ribbons that say "Support our Troops."
My family went out to a Chinese restaurant on Christmas. I have a confession. I think I must be the only Chinese person on this planet who does not love Chinese food. People always look at me like I'm insane when I say so. I don't know any Asian Americans, whatever generation they are, who do not love the cuisine of their motherland. I think I would appreciate Canto cooking more if I did not have so much of it growing up. It was almost all we had and I was always craving other things, any thing. Airplane meals were exciting to me simply because they were not Chinese. I'd never had anything but Canto and the occasional Italian or Mexican meal until I went away to college. Which is a shame because Houston is such a great food town, with large immigrant populations, and anything you could ever want to eat. I intend to eat my way through this town while I'm here. And I carry a list around in my head of all the places I want to eat when I come home. But not one of them is Chinese.
Posted by Melissa at 12:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Back in Texas. Houston, my hometown. Everything, as always, is under construction. I can't remember a time when the giant concrete ribbon of freeways weren't torn up or haf built, pillars like cut-off trunks of trees reaching up to nowhere. There's lot of car decals here in the shape of yellow ribbons that say "Support our Troops."
My family went out to a Chinese restaurant on Christmas. I have a confession. I think I must be the only Chinese person on this planet who does not love Chinese food. People always look at me like I'm insane when I say so. I don't know any Asian Americans, whatever generation they are, who do not love the cuisine of their motherland. I think I would appreciate Canto cooking more if I did not have so much of it growing up. It was almost all we had and I was always craving other things, any thing. Airplane meals were exciting to me simply because they were not Chinese. I'd never had anything but Canto and the occasional Italian or Mexican meal until I went away to college. Which is a shame because Houston is such a great food town, with large immigrant populations, and anything you could ever want to eat. I intend to eat my way through this town while I'm here. And I carry a list around in my head of all the places I want to eat when I come home. But not one of them is Chinese.
Posted by Melissa at 12:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Back in Texas. Houston, my hometown. Everything, as always, is under construction. I can't remember a time when the giant concrete ribbon of freeways weren't torn up or haf built, pillars like cut-off trunks of trees reaching up to nowhere. There's lot of car decals here in the shape of yellow ribbons that say "Support our Troops."
My family went out to a Chinese restaurant on Christmas. I have a confession. I think I must be the only Chinese person on this planet who does not love Chinese food. People always look at me like I'm insane when I say so. I don't know any Asian Americans, whatever generation they are, who do not love the cuisine of their motherland. I think I would appreciate Canto cooking more if I did not have so much of it growing up. It was almost all we had and I was always craving other things, any thing. Airplane meals were exciting to me simply because they were not Chinese. I'd never had anything but Canto and the occasional Italian or Mexican meal until I went away to college. Which is a shame because Houston is such a great food town, with large immigrant populations, and anything you could ever want to eat. I intend to eat my way through this town while I'm here. And I carry a list around in my head of all the places I want to eat when I come home. But not one of them is Chinese.
Posted by Melissa at 12:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
How much do you really know about us Hyphen peeps through bloggery? Not much. So let’s get acquainted. A good team building exercise is to say your name and give the story behind what you’re wearing. I’m Todd. This is what I actually threw on and it reveals something (bad) about male journalists’ couture. From the ground up:
Shoes: Green Adidas Spezials. Bought from Adidas outlet in Tahoe.
Pants: Levi’s 505 jeans. Bought at Costco. Super faded with scraggly bottoms.
Shirt: Scratchy grey thermal. Target!
T-Shirt: “Jamaica” black and grey ringer T. Another Target special ($9!)
Outerwear: Kappa jacket. Christmas present from 1999.
Outerwear: Grey “Metro MiniCooper” hoodie. Gotten this afternoon in lieu of a Christmas bonus.
Hair Product: Tea Tree hair glue.
OK, now you’re thinking, what about underwear? I could put something false and bougie like Costco Kirkland but it’s really Palermo Cotton Mesh Bikini Brief (Italian cut).
Skid mark. Hey, I was in a hurry!
Posted by at 3:16 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
How much do you really know about us Hyphen peeps through bloggery? Not much. So let’s get acquainted. A good team building exercise is to say your name and give the story behind what you’re wearing. I’m Todd. This is what I actually threw on and it reveals something (bad) about male journalists’ couture. From the ground up:
Shoes: Green Adidas Spezials. Bought from Adidas outlet in Tahoe.
Pants: Levi’s 505 jeans. Bought at Costco. Super faded with scraggly bottoms.
Shirt: Scratchy grey thermal. Target!
T-Shirt: “Jamaica” black and grey ringer T. Another Target special ($9!)
Outerwear: Kappa jacket. Christmas present from 1999.
Outerwear: Grey “Metro MiniCooper” hoodie. Gotten this afternoon in lieu of a Christmas bonus.
Hair Product: Tea Tree hair glue.
OK, now you’re thinking, what about underwear? I could put something false and bougie like Costco Kirkland but it’s really Palermo Cotton Mesh Bikini Brief (Italian cut).
Skid mark. Hey, I was in a hurry!
Posted by at 3:16 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
How much do you really know about us Hyphen peeps through bloggery? Not much. So lets get acquainted. A good team building exercise is to say your name and give the story behind what youre wearing. Im Todd. This is what I actually threw on and it reveals something (bad) about male journalists couture. From the ground up:
Shoes: Green Adidas Spezials. Bought from Adidas outlet in Tahoe.
Pants: Levis 505 jeans. Bought at Costco. Super faded with scraggly bottoms.
Shirt: Scratchy grey thermal. Target!
T-Shirt: Jamaica black and grey ringer T. Another Target special ($9!)
Outerwear: Kappa jacket. Christmas present from 1999.
Outerwear: Grey Metro MiniCooper hoodie. Gotten this afternoon in lieu of a Christmas bonus.
Hair Product: Tea Tree hair glue.
OK, now youre thinking, what about underwear? I could put something false and bougie like Costco Kirkland but its really Palermo Cotton Mesh Bikini Brief (Italian cut).
Skid mark. Hey, I was in a hurry!
Posted by todd at 3:16 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Here's a book I think I should read...
Not because I think it will explain the sad state of my career, though hey, I'm ready for any explanation. But because it seems like it may become one of those books that will become a reference point, whether you love it or hate it.
According to the Korea Times, "executive coach and career counselor Jane Hyun gets to the bottom of why many Asian Americans have been unable to move ahead in the workplace. As the title of this book suggests, Hyun explains that Asians have not been able to break the 'bamboo ceiling' because many are not aware that the Asian upbringing that shaped their individual characteristics, career choices and workplace behavior might also be causing them to be misunderstood by their colleagues and bosses."
I'm curious to hear how my "Asian upbringing" in Kansas influenced my career choices of journalist, documentary filmmaker, obsessive crafter and overall dilletante. And how nice it will be to explain my social ackwardness and the misunderstanding of my colleagues and bosses with a "multicultural" reasoning, instead of my own personal misanthropy plus shyness plus laziness that I've been relying on up to now.
But I shouldn't be so sarcastic --I haven't even read the book yet. It's not out to May, 2005. Maybe I'll read it and learn that there's some deep, Jungian, Asian thinking inside of me that I'm not even aware of. Or that being the child of immigrants will in fact have a deep imprint --it only makes sense, right?
That's the problem with generalizations, especially cultural ones. Impossible not to make, (how many times have we joked about Chinese people being cheap?) very sensitive (white men, don't you dare make fun of Chinese people being cheap) and both useful and useless at the same time.
I'll be interested to see if Hyun has any hard statistical analysis to back up her work, or if it's all based on anecdotal evidence. She's been a career counselor for a long time, including an advisor for Monster.com! but I didn't see any academic credentials --sociology, anthropology, or other studies of human culture and behavior. Which may not matter, but it kinda does.
Because then maybe she would have named her book differently. Bamboo until recently has been an Asian building material --wouldn't the "ceiling" be built of something used in the West? I guess "The Asbestos Ceiling," "The Foam Tile Ceiling" and "The Old Boys Network Grandfather Clause Ceiling" don't have the same ring.
Posted by jennifer at 11:02 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Here's a book I think I should read...
Not because I think it will explain the sad state of my career, though hey, I'm ready for any explanation. But because it seems like it may become one of those books that will become a reference point, whether you love it or hate it.
According to the Korea Times, "executive coach and career counselor Jane Hyun gets to the bottom of why many Asian Americans have been unable to move ahead in the workplace. As the title of this book suggests, Hyun explains that Asians have not been able to break the 'bamboo ceiling' because many are not aware that the Asian upbringing that shaped their individual characteristics, career choices and workplace behavior might also be causing them to be misunderstood by their colleagues and bosses."
I'm curious to hear how my "Asian upbringing" in Kansas influenced my career choices of journalist, documentary filmmaker, obsessive crafter and overall dilletante. And how nice it will be to explain my social ackwardness and the misunderstanding of my colleagues and bosses with a "multicultural" reasoning, instead of my own personal misanthropy plus shyness plus laziness that I've been relying on up to now.
But I shouldn't be so sarcastic --I haven't even read the book yet. It's not out to May, 2005. Maybe I'll read it and learn that there's some deep, Jungian, Asian thinking inside of me that I'm not even aware of. Or that being the child of immigrants will in fact have a deep imprint --it only makes sense, right?
That's the problem with generalizations, especially cultural ones. Impossible not to make, (how many times have we joked about Chinese people being cheap?) very sensitive (white men, don't you dare make fun of Chinese people being cheap) and both useful and useless at the same time.
I'll be interested to see if Hyun has any hard statistical analysis to back up her work, or if it's all based on anecdotal evidence. She's been a career counselor for a long time, including an advisor for Monster.com! but I didn't see any academic credentials --sociology, anthropology, or other studies of human culture and behavior. Which may not matter, but it kinda does.
Because then maybe she would have named her book differently. Bamboo until recently has been an Asian building material --wouldn't the "ceiling" be built of something used in the West? I guess "The Asbestos Ceiling," "The Foam Tile Ceiling" and "The Old Boys Network Grandfather Clause Ceiling" don't have the same ring.
Posted by jennifer at 11:02 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Here's a book I think I should read...
Not because I think it will explain the sad state of my career, though hey, I'm ready for any explanation. But because it seems like it may become one of those books that will become a reference point, whether you love it or hate it.
According to the Korea Times, "executive coach and career counselor Jane Hyun gets to the bottom of why many Asian Americans have been unable to move ahead in the workplace. As the title of this book suggests, Hyun explains that Asians have not been able to break the 'bamboo ceiling' because many are not aware that the Asian upbringing that shaped their individual characteristics, career choices and workplace behavior might also be causing them to be misunderstood by their colleagues and bosses."
I'm curious to hear how my "Asian upbringing" in Kansas influenced my career choices of journalist, documentary filmmaker, obsessive crafter and overall dilletante. And how nice it will be to explain my social ackwardness and the misunderstanding of my colleagues and bosses with a "multicultural" reasoning, instead of my own personal misanthropy plus shyness plus laziness that I've been relying on up to now.
But I shouldn't be so sarcastic --I haven't even read the book yet. It's not out to May, 2005. Maybe I'll read it and learn that there's some deep, Jungian, Asian thinking inside of me that I'm not even aware of. Or that being the child of immigrants will in fact have a deep imprint --it only makes sense, right?
That's the problem with generalizations, especially cultural ones. Impossible not to make, (how many times have we joked about Chinese people being cheap?) very sensitive (white men, don't you dare make fun of Chinese people being cheap) and both useful and useless at the same time.
I'll be interested to see if Hyun has any hard statistical analysis to back up her work, or if it's all based on anecdotal evidence. She's been a career counselor for a long time, including an advisor for Monster.com! but I didn't see any academic credentials --sociology, anthropology, or other studies of human culture and behavior. Which may not matter, but it kinda does.
Because then maybe she would have named her book differently. Bamboo until recently has been an Asian building material --wouldn't the "ceiling" be built of something used in the West? I guess "The Asbestos Ceiling," "The Foam Tile Ceiling" and "The Old Boys Network Grandfather Clause Ceiling" don't have the same ring.
Posted by jennifer at 11:02 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
That confuses me. What is sick about dogs? Dogs aren't normally sick. Whatever. In any case, those of you who are as sick as I am with this cough-y flu-ey thingy (this is how sick I am: I watched The Princess Diaries II twice. By CHOICE) might want a good laugh right about now, especially if you, like me, postponed Christmas shopping until this week and then had to spend the week at home moaning at low volume and occasionally giving a little whimper. Then again you might not want a laugh, considering the full, juicy bout of coughing a laugh might bring on. Your choice. Check it out: Top Ten Least Successful Holiday Specials.
Ho, ho, h-- *hack* ... *groof*
Posted by claire at 6:22 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
That confuses me. What is sick about dogs? Dogs aren't normally sick. Whatever. In any case, those of you who are as sick as I am with this cough-y flu-ey thingy (this is how sick I am: I watched The Princess Diaries II twice. By CHOICE) might want a good laugh right about now, especially if you, like me, postponed Christmas shopping until this week and then had to spend the week at home moaning at low volume and occasionally giving a little whimper. Then again you might not want a laugh, considering the full, juicy bout of coughing a laugh might bring on. Your choice. Check it out: Top Ten Least Successful Holiday Specials.
Ho, ho, h-- *hack* ... *groof*
Posted by claire at 6:22 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
That confuses me. What is sick about dogs? Dogs aren't normally sick. Whatever. In any case, those of you who are as sick as I am with this cough-y flu-ey thingy (this is how sick I am: I watched The Princess Diaries II twice. By CHOICE) might want a good laugh right about now, especially if you, like me, postponed Christmas shopping until this week and then had to spend the week at home moaning at low volume and occasionally giving a little whimper. Then again you might not want a laugh, considering the full, juicy bout of coughing a laugh might bring on. Your choice. Check it out: Top Ten Least Successful Holiday Specials.
Ho, ho, h-- *hack* ... *groof*
Posted by claire at 6:22 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
I’m actually finished Christmas shopping one whole week before the big day. OK, there’s a couple more to get but they’re cornered and I’m stalking them with my big game BastardCard. Just some scattered nieces and nephews (and wifey, yikes!) and that’s it. I survived the malls and lived to tell about it.
The number of nieces and nephews to buy gifts for grew exponentially this year. Suddenly we have to put on the perspective of a one-year-old. Will they find our picks joyful or just another drool absorber?
We had so much trouble finding appropriate toys that this year we gave up and settled on books.
Timeless, educational, thought-provoking books that will get tossed aside for fun toys. Yep, we’re not the fun uncles/aunties. But you can’t lose with Story About Ping, The Five Chinese Brothers or Tikki Tikki Tembo (No sa rembo-chari bari ruchi-pip peri pembo). I loved the latter. Tikki was on some Twista rhyming ish!
While checking the sales, we found Linda Sue Park. Her kid books are thoughtful and multicultural! Plus it’s a good read—Mung Mung, her first book for ages 2-7 is an animal sounds primer. Peep her out here.
Posted by at 4:02 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
I’m actually finished Christmas shopping one whole week before the big day. OK, there’s a couple more to get but they’re cornered and I’m stalking them with my big game BastardCard. Just some scattered nieces and nephews (and wifey, yikes!) and that’s it. I survived the malls and lived to tell about it.
The number of nieces and nephews to buy gifts for grew exponentially this year. Suddenly we have to put on the perspective of a one-year-old. Will they find our picks joyful or just another drool absorber?
We had so much trouble finding appropriate toys that this year we gave up and settled on books.
Timeless, educational, thought-provoking books that will get tossed aside for fun toys. Yep, we’re not the fun uncles/aunties. But you can’t lose with Story About Ping, The Five Chinese Brothers or Tikki Tikki Tembo (No sa rembo-chari bari ruchi-pip peri pembo). I loved the latter. Tikki was on some Twista rhyming ish!
While checking the sales, we found Linda Sue Park. Her kid books are thoughtful and multicultural! Plus it’s a good read—Mung Mung, her first book for ages 2-7 is an animal sounds primer. Peep her out here.
Posted by at 4:02 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Im actually finished Christmas shopping one whole week before the big day. OK, theres a couple more to get but theyre cornered and Im stalking them with my big game BastardCard. Just some scattered nieces and nephews (and wifey, yikes!) and thats it. I survived the malls and lived to tell about it.
The number of nieces and nephews to buy gifts for grew exponentially this year. Suddenly we have to put on the perspective of a one-year-old. Will they find our picks joyful or just another drool absorber?
We had so much trouble finding appropriate toys that this year we gave up and settled on books.
Timeless, educational, thought-provoking books that will get tossed aside for fun toys. Yep, were not the fun uncles/aunties. But you cant lose with Story About Ping, The Five Chinese Brothers or Tikki Tikki Tembo (No sa rembo-chari bari ruchi-pip peri pembo). I loved the latter. Tikki was on some Twista rhyming ish!
While checking the sales, we found Linda Sue Park. Her kid books are thoughtful and multicultural! Plus its a good readMung Mung, her first book for ages 2-7 is an animal sounds primer. Peep her out here.
Posted by todd at 4:02 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
USC assistant football coach Norm Chow was passed over for the head coach job at Stanford, a snub for a guy that has groomed a string of star quarterbacks, including Matt Leinart, this year's Heisman Trophy winner.
If there was an industry where Asian Americans are truly invisible, than it's big-time sports, such as college football. Hawaii-native Chow has an incredible coaching record as an offensive guru at Brigham Young University, North Carolina State and USC, which has been the No. 1-ranked college team in the country most of the past two years. Some of the quarterbacks Chow has tutored who have gone on to the NFL include Carson Palmer, Steve Young, Jim McMahon, and most likely, Leinart in the near future.
Chow would seem to be in line for any head coaching job out there, but it hasn't worked out that way. Having not been a head coach before may be hurting his chances, but if there was ever an "old boy's club," it would be big-time college sports, given the paltry number of black coaches.
Plenty of other assistant coaches without head coaching experience have been hired as the top guy, so let's hope Chow gets his opportunity soon.
Posted by harry at 10:33 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
USC assistant football coach Norm Chow was passed over for the head coach job at Stanford, a snub for a guy that has groomed a string of star quarterbacks, including Matt Leinart, this year's Heisman Trophy winner.
If there was an industry where Asian Americans are truly invisible, than it's big-time sports, such as college football. Hawaii-native Chow has an incredible coaching record as an offensive guru at Brigham Young University, North Carolina State and USC, which has been the No. 1-ranked college team in the country most of the past two years. Some of the quarterbacks Chow has tutored who have gone on to the NFL include Carson Palmer, Steve Young, Jim McMahon, and most likely, Leinart in the near future.
Chow would seem to be in line for any head coaching job out there, but it hasn't worked out that way. Having not been a head coach before may be hurting his chances, but if there was ever an "old boy's club," it would be big-time college sports, given the paltry number of black coaches.
Plenty of other assistant coaches without head coaching experience have been hired as the top guy, so let's hope Chow gets his opportunity soon.
Posted by harry at 10:33 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
USC assistant football coach Norm Chow was passed over for the head coach job at Stanford, a snub for a guy that has groomed a string of star quarterbacks, including Matt Leinart, this year's Heisman Trophy winner.
If there was an industry where Asian Americans are truly invisible, than it's big-time sports, such as college football. Hawaii-native Chow has an incredible coaching record as an offensive guru at Brigham Young University, North Carolina State and USC, which has been the No. 1-ranked college team in the country most of the past two years. Some of the quarterbacks Chow has tutored who have gone on to the NFL include Carson Palmer, Steve Young, Jim McMahon, and most likely, Leinart in the near future.
Chow would seem to be in line for any head coaching job out there, but it hasn't worked out that way. Having not been a head coach before may be hurting his chances, but if there was ever an "old boy's club," it would be big-time college sports, given the paltry number of black coaches.
Plenty of other assistant coaches without head coaching experience have been hired as the top guy, so let's hope Chow gets his opportunity soon.
Posted by harry at 10:33 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Gross! I have a personal blog and I like to check my Statcounter once in a while, to see who's been reading it. I mostly check to see if I get weird Google (or other search engine) hits. This morning I got a hit for the search "filipina + pinay + asian beaver." Ay naku, bastos talaga! I've gotten other hits for similar searches, but "Asian beaver" downright makes me feel violated.
*Audrey angrily waves a tightly-balled fist in the air* Just because I am the O.G. ManilaSpice does NOT mean I'm down with Filipina online "penpal" or porn sites! HMPH!
Okay. Venting over. Anywaaay.
Last month I signed on to organize the main showcase of Directions in Sound, a three-day music (and music video) showcase presented by the San Francisco International Asian American Film Festival, for the fifth year in a row. Moreso than Hyphen, Directions in Sound is like my "baby." As I sat down the other day to send out emails soliciting DJs and other talent, I got sidetracked thinking about all the things I did to lead me to this.
Six years ago I interned at Giant Robot. My journey in Asian American media (magazine publishing) started as a young robot; I was an over-eager and bad (as in horrible) wannabe music journalist (I stick to press releases and email newsletters [and the occasional blog] nowadays). By some stroke of dumb luck (good timing) I was given the opportunity to contribute to Issue 15, the Fifth Anniversary and Music Issue (Money Mark on the cover). I had barely discovered hip-hop and Asian America, so I thought I was cool because I was asked to interview the Mountain Brothers, DJ Symphony from the Beat Junkies and Kuttin' Kandi from the 5th Platoon. (Sidenote: If you have Issue 15 of GR, my Mama [may she rest in peace]'s adobo recipe is on the back page, along with a cute caricature of Babu and Rhettmatic from the Beat Junkies.)
After a year (four issues) of preparing subscription and t-shirt orders at the GR loft in Little Tokyo, I got to leave with four published pieces. Dedication and menial work paid off. When I moved to the Bay Area from LA, Eric Nakamura (publisher/editor of Giant Robot) suggested getting involved with NAATA (the media arts nonprofit that presents SFIAAFF every year). I guess being able to say you worked at GR gives one some street cred in Asian America, because I was recruited to put together the 2nd Directions in Sound a year after leaving GR. This was in 2001; up til now I've been happily planning Directions in Sound every year.
I've met some down-to-earth and talented filmmakers and musicians through SFIAAFF/Directions in Sound (yes, check these folks' sites out): Shing02, Romeo Candido (not only a musician, but he directed a great film called Lolo's Child [or "the Filipino Purple Rain" as I've heard it called]), Rod Pulido (director of The Flip Side), Mike Nice (he really is nice!), DJ Awww Damn (she also writes for MeshSF), Doc Fu from Future Primitive Sound, Triple Threat DJs, DJ Rekha, Ren the Vinyl Archaeologist from True Skool, and the guys from Massive Selector. (Excuse my "name-dropping." I am only mentioning who I remember off the top of my head.) What's even more exciting is that over the years I've heard of and seen great work coming from many Directions in Sound "alumni" while perusing club/event listings or record stores.
Finally, let me Shibuya Roll Call folks I really admire, who I hope to work with someday: Neil Armstrong from 5th Platoon makes a mean mix-CD. He was involved with teaching turntablism at the Scratch Academy in NYC. Lyrics Born is my favorite MC, and it's not because he's tall, thick and hapa. One of my favorite hip-hop songs ever is Latyrx's "Lady Don't Tek No." I'm sure by now you've seen that Coke commercial that uses his song "Calling Out" in it. Also, I am totally in love with Joyo Velarde's soulful voice; you can often hear her singing back-up for any Quannum artist, including Lyrics Born. I own four copies of her vinyl single "Sweet Angels" and am waiting for a full-length album to come out. Although I also (not so secretly) like cheesy Filipina groups that sing saccharine R&B freestyle, I believe that Joyo Velarde can save Pinay songstresses from American Idol-dom. (Oh yes, I did just say that!)
I think that's enough gushing for now. And in case I never paid due respect to Giant Robot: Thank You Nakamura-sensei.
Posted by Audrey at 3:47 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Gross! I have a personal blog and I like to check my Statcounter once in a while, to see who's been reading it. I mostly check to see if I get weird Google (or other search engine) hits. This morning I got a hit for the search "filipina + pinay + asian beaver." Ay naku, bastos talaga! I've gotten other hits for similar searches, but "Asian beaver" downright makes me feel violated.
*Audrey angrily waves a tightly-balled fist in the air* Just because I am the O.G. ManilaSpice does NOT mean I'm down with Filipina online "penpal" or porn sites! HMPH!
Okay. Venting over. Anywaaay.
Last month I signed on to organize the main showcase of Directions in Sound, a three-day music (and music video) showcase presented by the San Francisco International Asian American Film Festival, for the fifth year in a row. Moreso than Hyphen, Directions in Sound is like my "baby." As I sat down the other day to send out emails soliciting DJs and other talent, I got sidetracked thinking about all the things I did to lead me to this.
Six years ago I interned at Giant Robot. My journey in Asian American media (magazine publishing) started as a young robot; I was an over-eager and bad (as in horrible) wannabe music journalist (I stick to press releases and email newsletters [and the occasional blog] nowadays). By some stroke of dumb luck (good timing) I was given the opportunity to contribute to Issue 15, the Fifth Anniversary and Music Issue (Money Mark on the cover). I had barely discovered hip-hop and Asian America, so I thought I was cool because I was asked to interview the Mountain Brothers, DJ Symphony from the Beat Junkies and Kuttin' Kandi from the 5th Platoon. (Sidenote: If you have Issue 15 of GR, my Mama [may she rest in peace]'s adobo recipe is on the back page, along with a cute caricature of Babu and Rhettmatic from the Beat Junkies.)
After a year (four issues) of preparing subscription and t-shirt orders at the GR loft in Little Tokyo, I got to leave with four published pieces. Dedication and menial work paid off. When I moved to the Bay Area from LA, Eric Nakamura (publisher/editor of Giant Robot) suggested getting involved with NAATA (the media arts nonprofit that presents SFIAAFF every year). I guess being able to say you worked at GR gives one some street cred in Asian America, because I was recruited to put together the 2nd Directions in Sound a year after leaving GR. This was in 2001; up til now I've been happily planning Directions in Sound every year.
I've met some down-to-earth and talented filmmakers and musicians through SFIAAFF/Directions in Sound (yes, check these folks' sites out): Shing02, Romeo Candido (not only a musician, but he directed a great film called Lolo's Child [or "the Filipino Purple Rain" as I've heard it called]), Rod Pulido (director of The Flip Side), Mike Nice (he really is nice!), DJ Awww Damn (she also writes for MeshSF), Doc Fu from Future Primitive Sound, Triple Threat DJs, DJ Rekha, Ren the Vinyl Archaeologist from True Skool, and the guys from Massive Selector. (Excuse my "name-dropping." I am only mentioning who I remember off the top of my head.) What's even more exciting is that over the years I've heard of and seen great work coming from many Directions in Sound "alumni" while perusing club/event listings or record stores.
Finally, let me Shibuya Roll Call folks I really admire, who I hope to work with someday: Neil Armstrong from 5th Platoon makes a mean mix-CD. He was involved with teaching turntablism at the Scratch Academy in NYC. Lyrics Born is my favorite MC, and it's not because he's tall, thick and hapa. One of my favorite hip-hop songs ever is Latyrx's "Lady Don't Tek No." I'm sure by now you've seen that Coke commercial that uses his song "Calling Out" in it. Also, I am totally in love with Joyo Velarde's soulful voice; you can often hear her singing back-up for any Quannum artist, including Lyrics Born. I own four copies of her vinyl single "Sweet Angels" and am waiting for a full-length album to come out. Although I also (not so secretly) like cheesy Filipina groups that sing saccharine R&B freestyle, I believe that Joyo Velarde can save Pinay songstresses from American Idol-dom. (Oh yes, I did just say that!)
I think that's enough gushing for now. And in case I never paid due respect to Giant Robot: Thank You Nakamura-sensei.
Posted by Audrey at 3:47 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Gross! I have a personal blog and I like to check my Statcounter once in a while, to see who's been reading it. I mostly check to see if I get weird Google (or other search engine) hits. This morning I got a hit for the search "filipina + pinay + asian beaver." Ay naku, bastos talaga! I've gotten other hits for similar searches, but "Asian beaver" downright makes me feel violated.
*Audrey angrily waves a tightly-balled fist in the air* Just because I am the O.G. ManilaSpice does NOT mean I'm down with Filipina online "penpal" or porn sites! HMPH!
Okay. Venting over. Anywaaay.
Last month I signed on to organize the main showcase of Directions in Sound, a three-day music (and music video) showcase presented by the San Francisco International Asian American Film Festival, for the fifth year in a row. Moreso than Hyphen, Directions in Sound is like my "baby." As I sat down the other day to send out emails soliciting DJs and other talent, I got sidetracked thinking about all the things I did to lead me to this.
Six years ago I interned at Giant Robot. My journey in Asian American media (magazine publishing) started as a young robot; I was an over-eager and bad (as in horrible) wannabe music journalist (I stick to press releases and email newsletters [and the occasional blog] nowadays). By some stroke of dumb luck (good timing) I was given the opportunity to contribute to Issue 15, the Fifth Anniversary and Music Issue (Money Mark on the cover). I had barely discovered hip-hop and Asian America, so I thought I was cool because I was asked to interview the Mountain Brothers, DJ Symphony from the Beat Junkies and Kuttin' Kandi from the 5th Platoon. (Sidenote: If you have Issue 15 of GR, my Mama [may she rest in peace]'s adobo recipe is on the back page, along with a cute caricature of Babu and Rhettmatic from the Beat Junkies.)
After a year (four issues) of preparing subscription and t-shirt orders at the GR loft in Little Tokyo, I got to leave with four published pieces. Dedication and menial work paid off. When I moved to the Bay Area from LA, Eric Nakamura (publisher/editor of Giant Robot) suggested getting involved with NAATA (the media arts nonprofit that presents SFIAAFF every year). I guess being able to say you worked at GR gives one some street cred in Asian America, because I was recruited to put together the 2nd Directions in Sound a year after leaving GR. This was in 2001; up til now I've been happily planning Directions in Sound every year.
I've met some down-to-earth and talented filmmakers and musicians through SFIAAFF/Directions in Sound (yes, check these folks' sites out): Shing02, Romeo Candido (not only a musician, but he directed a great film called Lolo's Child [or "the Filipino Purple Rain" as I've heard it called]), Rod Pulido (director of The Flip Side), Mike Nice (he really is nice!), DJ Awww Damn (she also writes for MeshSF), Doc Fu from Future Primitive Sound, Triple Threat DJs, DJ Rekha, Ren the Vinyl Archaeologist from True Skool, and the guys from Massive Selector. (Excuse my "name-dropping." I am only mentioning who I remember off the top of my head.) What's even more exciting is that over the years I've heard of and seen great work coming from many Directions in Sound "alumni" while perusing club/event listings or record stores.
Finally, let me Shibuya Roll Call folks I really admire, who I hope to work with someday: Neil Armstrong from 5th Platoon makes a mean mix-CD. He was involved with teaching turntablism at the Scratch Academy in NYC. Lyrics Born is my favorite MC, and it's not because he's tall, thick and hapa. One of my favorite hip-hop songs ever is Latyrx's "Lady Don't Tek No." I'm sure by now you've seen that Coke commercial that uses his song "Calling Out" in it. Also, I am totally in love with Joyo Velarde's soulful voice; you can often hear her singing back-up for any Quannum artist, including Lyrics Born. I own four copies of her vinyl single "Sweet Angels" and am waiting for a full-length album to come out. Although I also (not so secretly) like cheesy Filipina groups that sing saccharine R&B freestyle, I believe that Joyo Velarde can save Pinay songstresses from American Idol-dom. (Oh yes, I did just say that!)
I think that's enough gushing for now. And in case I never paid due respect to Giant Robot: Thank You Nakamura-sensei.
Posted by Audrey at 3:47 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Haven't we all witnessed lame-ass tattoos in Asian languages, mostly on people who don't know the language in the first place? For your browsing amusement, I bring to you Hanzi Smatter, where users submit photos of such tattoos to a guy named Tian, who then posts on whether or not they actually mean anything. As Tian writes: "I have been a fan of the website Engrish.com for years. To my surprise, there is virtually no website existent for pointing out the faults in Westerners' interest of Eastern culture, especially the usage of Hanzi Chinese characters. As a Chinese American, I felt it was my duty and honor to educate the public about the misusage of Chinese characters." The results are somewhat unintentionally hilarious: witness such photographic evidence as the sorry sucker who got the Chinese word for "idiot" permanently etched on his flesh.
Posted by Lisa at 5:03 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Haven't we all witnessed lame-ass tattoos in Asian languages, mostly on people who don't know the language in the first place? For your browsing amusement, I bring to you Hanzi Smatter, where users submit photos of such tattoos to a guy named Tian, who then posts on whether or not they actually mean anything. As Tian writes: "I have been a fan of the website Engrish.com for years. To my surprise, there is virtually no website existent for pointing out the faults in Westerners' interest of Eastern culture, especially the usage of Hanzi Chinese characters. As a Chinese American, I felt it was my duty and honor to educate the public about the misusage of Chinese characters." The results are somewhat unintentionally hilarious: witness such photographic evidence as the sorry sucker who got the Chinese word for "idiot" permanently etched on his flesh.
Posted by Lisa at 5:03 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Haven't we all witnessed lame-ass tattoos in Asian languages, mostly on people who don't know the language in the first place? For your browsing amusement, I bring to you Hanzi Smatter, where users submit photos of such tattoos to a guy named Tian, who then posts on whether or not they actually mean anything. As Tian writes: "I have been a fan of the website Engrish.com for years. To my surprise, there is virtually no website existent for pointing out the faults in Westerners' interest of Eastern culture, especially the usage of Hanzi Chinese characters. As a Chinese American, I felt it was my duty and honor to educate the public about the misusage of Chinese characters." The results are somewhat unintentionally hilarious: witness such photographic evidence as the sorry sucker who got the Chinese word for "idiot" permanently etched on his flesh.
Posted by Lisa at 5:03 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
This week marks the 67th anniversary of the Rape of Nanking. As we mourn the tragic suicide of Iris Chang, the Chinese American writer who focused the world's attention on those four grisly months of occupation in which at least 300,000 residents were tortured, raped, and murdered, take a look at this photo.
Iris Chang said that the silence surrounding the Nanjing holocaust was like a second rape --silence equals complicity.
I agree. Japanese textbooks should record these and other atrocities performed by their country; schoolchildren should flood Nanjing with thousands of folded paper cranes, not just their own victims of the atomic bomb. (Having spent 3 years in Japan, I can attest that there's a lot more attention paid to Nagasaki and Hiroshima and Japan's victimhood, than to its aggression and culpability.)
And we here in America have failed to construct the memorials and museums and write the books and create the art that has been part of the surviving, healing process for other, more famous massacres. (Are we comparing massacres now? Is this my unsavory role in the world?)
This photo is so hard to look at that one wants, almost must, look away. There are many more, each so inhuman that it hardly seems possible humans could do such things. But if you haven't seen them, you need to. (See more photos here , here and here.)
I didn't want to look at the photos and tried to scroll through quickly. But the one above grabbed my eye. How can that man be smiling? He's holding a human head.
It reminds me chillingly of the photos taken at Abu Ghraib.
Sure, the scale isn't as great in Baghdad as it was in Nanjing. And U.S. soldiers merely sodomized, tortured, humiliated, and beat to death their prisoners --they didn't chop off their heads.
But what struck me in both cases is the ability of a human being, amidst all of that cruelty and blood, to pose for the camera.
The photos, separated by almost 70 years, continents and cultures and politics, are a grim reminder of what happens to people in war. They make me fear that we will never learn how to stop the even the worst of human behaviour, that anyone, even our uncles and brothers and children, even ourselves, could be capable of total depravity.
This is what Irish Chang looked in the face. How disheartening to see the same story played out again and again, in Darfur, in Baghdad, in in Colombia, in Aceh.
Posted by jennifer at 10:18 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
This week marks the 67th anniversary of the Rape of Nanking. As we mourn the tragic suicide of Iris Chang, the Chinese American writer who focused the world's attention on those four grisly months of occupation in which at least 300,000 residents were tortured, raped, and murdered, take a look at this photo.
Iris Chang said that the silence surrounding the Nanjing holocaust was like a second rape --silence equals complicity.
I agree. Japanese textbooks should record these and other atrocities performed by their country; schoolchildren should flood Nanjing with thousands of folded paper cranes, not just their own victims of the atomic bomb. (Having spent 3 years in Japan, I can attest that there's a lot more attention paid to Nagasaki and Hiroshima and Japan's victimhood, than to its aggression and culpability.)
And we here in America have failed to construct the memorials and museums and write the books and create the art that has been part of the surviving, healing process for other, more famous massacres. (Are we comparing massacres now? Is this my unsavory role in the world?)
This photo is so hard to look at that one wants, almost must, look away. There are many more, each so inhuman that it hardly seems possible humans could do such things. But if you haven't seen them, you need to. (See more photos here , here and here.)
I didn't want to look at the photos and tried to scroll through quickly. But the one above grabbed my eye. How can that man be smiling? He's holding a human head.
It reminds me chillingly of the photos taken at Abu Ghraib.
Sure, the scale isn't as great in Baghdad as it was in Nanjing. And U.S. soldiers merely sodomized, tortured, humiliated, and beat to death their prisoners --they didn't chop off their heads.
But what struck me in both cases is the ability of a human being, amidst all of that cruelty and blood, to pose for the camera.
The photos, separated by almost 70 years, continents and cultures and politics, are a grim reminder of what happens to people in war. They make me fear that we will never learn how to stop the even the worst of human behaviour, that anyone, even our uncles and brothers and children, even ourselves, could be capable of total depravity.
This is what Irish Chang looked in the face. How disheartening to see the same story played out again and again, in Darfur, in Baghdad, in in Colombia, in Aceh.
Posted by jennifer at 10:18 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
This week marks the 67th anniversary of the Rape of Nanking. As we mourn the tragic suicide of Iris Chang, the Chinese American writer who focused the world's attention on those four grisly months of occupation in which at least 300,000 residents were tortured, raped, and murdered, take a look at this photo.
Iris Chang said that the silence surrounding the Nanjing holocaust was like a second rape --silence equals complicity.
I agree. Japanese textbooks should record these and other atrocities performed by their country; schoolchildren should flood Nanjing with thousands of folded paper cranes, not just their own victims of the atomic bomb. (Having spent 3 years in Japan, I can attest that there's a lot more attention paid to Nagasaki and Hiroshima and Japan's victimhood, than to its aggression and culpability.)
And we here in America have failed to construct the memorials and museums and write the books and create the art that has been part of the surviving, healing process for other, more famous massacres. (Are we comparing massacres now? Is this my unsavory role in the world?)
This photo is so hard to look at that one wants, almost must, look away. There are many more, each so inhuman that it hardly seems possible humans could do such things. But if you haven't seen them, you need to. (See more photos here , here and here.)
I didn't want to look at the photos and tried to scroll through quickly. But the one above grabbed my eye. How can that man be smiling? He's holding a human head.
It reminds me chillingly of the photos taken at Abu Ghraib.
Sure, the scale isn't as great in Baghdad as it was in Nanjing. And U.S. soldiers merely sodomized, tortured, humiliated, and beat to death their prisoners --they didn't chop off their heads.
But what struck me in both cases is the ability of a human being, amidst all of that cruelty and blood, to pose for the camera.
The photos, separated by almost 70 years, continents and cultures and politics, are a grim reminder of what happens to people in war. They make me fear that we will never learn how to stop the even the worst of human behaviour, that anyone, even our uncles and brothers and children, even ourselves, could be capable of total depravity.
This is what Irish Chang looked in the face. How disheartening to see the same story played out again and again, in Darfur, in Baghdad, in in Colombia, in Aceh.
Posted by jennifer at 10:18 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
I love Heeb! Heeb is my new boyfriend. Heeb is the bomb! only without all the radiation sickness and dying afterward. Heeb loves me too. Back off, bitches! Heeb is mine!
We'd met only once before this weekend, and that was like a year ago, at a party, but he caught my eye then with his double-wide jewfro, those cute little glasses, and that pale, yet opaque complexion that says, "I'm yummy like ice cream, only without all the lactose and getting the runs afterward." I guess I caught his eye too cuz he's emailed me a couple times since, and he's all like, "Yo, Hyphen, whassup?" *shriek!* I love that!
But he couldn't wait any longer to get it on so he challenged me to a ping pong tournament (which we did this Friday), and I'm all "What? You wanna call out a aZn?" and he's all "I'm bad" only with a New York accent and little bits of bagel in the corners of his mouth, so I'm all "Bring it!" And he brung it and his crouching tiger met my hidden dragon on the tennis table (the sexiest game on da planet the way he plays it, aiight?) and of course I kicked his ass (how could I not kick such a cute little I-sit-on-an-office-chair-all-day-even-tho-they-don't-pay-me-to ass?) in the singles and I let him kick my ass in the doubles. But then I let him win on the last game so that I could still get some. (But he held his paddle wrong, but it was sooo cute! I'd let him paddle me anytime! *shriek!*)
And get some I did, biatch, cuz he took me to karaoke after and he has such a gorgeous singing voice! And he sang Neil Diamond and I sang Axl Rose and he bought the second bottle of vodka cuz he's such a gentleman! Then we went for Korean food and he knows how to use chopsticks!!! (But he does it wrong, but it's soooo cute! He can chopstick me anytime!)
I was gonna put a link to his website here but now I'm not cuz you bitches will just go there and think you can get him but you can't cuz he's mine. You know how they say that Chinese are the Jews of the East? Well, since I'm like 70% Chinese, I'm practically a Jew! So I wouldn't need to convert so that we could get married! Not that we're gonna get married or nothin, don't tell him I said that. But Heeb is so crazy, I wanna have his baby!
Heeb is all that and a bowl of rice. Heeb has gravy. If you were freezing to death, Heeb would give you his vintage members only jacket, just to keep you warm! Heeb would never make the mistake of taking the United Arab Emirates' side against Iran in geographical nomenclature wars like National Geographic did, provoking a forthright response from Iranian American groups! Heeb would be too smart! Heeb would say, "Can't we all just get along?"
Heeb loves my cat and Heeb fixed my bike and Heeb made me a kosher grilled cheese sammich! You may think you know Heeb but you don't know Heeb like I know Heeb. Ya know? My Heeb wouldn't flock to see Billy Graham just cuz his audience has diversified. Heeb doesn't need a high tech revival. But maybe that's cuz Heeb has been God's chosen for like 3 millenia, okay?
Although Jews are the Chinese of the West, Heeb would not do what Chinese Indonesians done and organize a crime ring making fraudulent papers for illegal Indonesian immigrants. Heeb just would not do that. Other things that Heeb would not do: Heeb would not give disabled Vietnamese Americans citations for leaving their trash bins on the curb; Heeb would not unwittingly make an Asian American ethnicity the point of a story involving an Asian American -- Heeb would do it on purpose!; and Heeb would not eat Thanksgiving turkey with his fingers and then stab his nephew for asking him not to ... okay, well maybe he would, but that kinda turns me on.
Heeb, baby, don't leave me hangin after I give you everything! Baby! Call me!
xxxooo
Hyphen
Posted by claire at 4:37 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
I love Heeb! Heeb is my new boyfriend. Heeb is the bomb! only without all the radiation sickness and dying afterward. Heeb loves me too. Back off, bitches! Heeb is mine!
We'd met only once before this weekend, and that was like a year ago, at a party, but he caught my eye then with his double-wide jewfro, those cute little glasses, and that pale, yet opaque complexion that says, "I'm yummy like ice cream, only without all the lactose and getting the runs afterward." I guess I caught his eye too cuz he's emailed me a couple times since, and he's all like, "Yo, Hyphen, whassup?" *shriek!* I love that!
But he couldn't wait any longer to get it on so he challenged me to a ping pong tournament (which we did this Friday), and I'm all "What? You wanna call out a aZn?" and he's all "I'm bad" only with a New York accent and little bits of bagel in the corners of his mouth, so I'm all "Bring it!" And he brung it and his crouching tiger met my hidden dragon on the tennis table (the sexiest game on da planet the way he plays it, aiight?) and of course I kicked his ass (how could I not kick such a cute little I-sit-on-an-office-chair-all-day-even-tho-they-don't-pay-me-to ass?) in the singles and I let him kick my ass in the doubles. But then I let him win on the last game so that I could still get some. (But he held his paddle wrong, but it was sooo cute! I'd let him paddle me anytime! *shriek!*)
And get some I did, biatch, cuz he took me to karaoke after and he has such a gorgeous singing voice! And he sang Neil Diamond and I sang Axl Rose and he bought the second bottle of vodka cuz he's such a gentleman! Then we went for Korean food and he knows how to use chopsticks!!! (But he does it wrong, but it's soooo cute! He can chopstick me anytime!)
I was gonna put a link to his website here but now I'm not cuz you bitches will just go there and think you can get him but you can't cuz he's mine. You know how they say that Chinese are the Jews of the East? Well, since I'm like 70% Chinese, I'm practically a Jew! So I wouldn't need to convert so that we could get married! Not that we're gonna get married or nothin, don't tell him I said that. But Heeb is so crazy, I wanna have his baby!
Heeb is all that and a bowl of rice. Heeb has gravy. If you were freezing to death, Heeb would give you his vintage members only jacket, just to keep you warm! Heeb would never make the mistake of taking the United Arab Emirates' side against Iran in geographical nomenclature wars like National Geographic did, provoking a forthright response from Iranian American groups! Heeb would be too smart! Heeb would say, "Can't we all just get along?"
Heeb loves my cat and Heeb fixed my bike and Heeb made me a kosher grilled cheese sammich! You may think you know Heeb but you don't know Heeb like I know Heeb. Ya know? My Heeb wouldn't flock to see Billy Graham just cuz his audience has diversified. Heeb doesn't need a high tech revival. But maybe that's cuz Heeb has been God's chosen for like 3 millenia, okay?
Although Jews are the Chinese of the West, Heeb would not do what Chinese Indonesians done and organize a crime ring making fraudulent papers for illegal Indonesian immigrants. Heeb just would not do that. Other things that Heeb would not do: Heeb would not give disabled Vietnamese Americans citations for leaving their trash bins on the curb; Heeb would not unwittingly make an Asian American ethnicity the point of a story involving an Asian American -- Heeb would do it on purpose!; and Heeb would not eat Thanksgiving turkey with his fingers and then stab his nephew for asking him not to ... okay, well maybe he would, but that kinda turns me on.
Heeb, baby, don't leave me hangin after I give you everything! Baby! Call me!
xxxooo
Hyphen
Posted by claire at 4:37 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
I love Heeb! Heeb is my new boyfriend. Heeb is the bomb! only without all the radiation sickness and dying afterward. Heeb loves me too. Back off, bitches! Heeb is mine!
We'd met only once before this weekend, and that was like a year ago, at a party, but he caught my eye then with his double-wide jewfro, those cute little glasses, and that pale, yet opaque complexion that says, "I'm yummy like ice cream, only without all the lactose and getting the runs afterward." I guess I caught his eye too cuz he's emailed me a couple times since, and he's all like, "Yo, Hyphen, whassup?" *shriek!* I love that!
But he couldn't wait any longer to get it on so he challenged me to a ping pong tournament (which we did this Friday), and I'm all "What? You wanna call out a aZn?" and he's all "I'm bad" only with a New York accent and little bits of bagel in the corners of his mouth, so I'm all "Bring it!" And he brung it and his crouching tiger met my hidden dragon on the tennis table (the sexiest game on da planet the way he plays it, aiight?) and of course I kicked his ass (how could I not kick such a cute little I-sit-on-an-office-chair-all-day-even-tho-they-don't-pay-me-to ass?) in the singles and I let him kick my ass in the doubles. But then I let him win on the last game so that I could still get some. (But he held his paddle wrong, but it was sooo cute! I'd let him paddle me anytime! *shriek!*)
And get some I did, biatch, cuz he took me to karaoke after and he has such a gorgeous singing voice! And he sang Neil Diamond and I sang Axl Rose and he bought the second bottle of vodka cuz he's such a gentleman! Then we went for Korean food and he knows how to use chopsticks!!! (But he does it wrong, but it's soooo cute! He can chopstick me anytime!)
I was gonna put a link to his website here but now I'm not cuz you bitches will just go there and think you can get him but you can't cuz he's mine. You know how they say that Chinese are the Jews of the East? Well, since I'm like 70% Chinese, I'm practically a Jew! So I wouldn't need to convert so that we could get married! Not that we're gonna get married or nothin, don't tell him I said that. But Heeb is so crazy, I wanna have his baby!
Heeb is all that and a bowl of rice. Heeb has gravy. If you were freezing to death, Heeb would give you his vintage members only jacket, just to keep you warm! Heeb would never make the mistake of taking the United Arab Emirates' side against Iran in geographical nomenclature wars like National Geographic did, provoking a forthright response from Iranian American groups! Heeb would be too smart! Heeb would say, "Can't we all just get along?"
Heeb loves my cat and Heeb fixed my bike and Heeb made me a kosher grilled cheese sammich! You may think you know Heeb but you don't know Heeb like I know Heeb. Ya know? My Heeb wouldn't flock to see Billy Graham just cuz his audience has diversified. Heeb doesn't need a high tech revival. But maybe that's cuz Heeb has been God's chosen for like 3 millenia, okay?
Although Jews are the Chinese of the West, Heeb would not do what Chinese Indonesians done and organize a crime ring making fraudulent papers for illegal Indonesian immigrants. Heeb just would not do that. Other things that Heeb would not do: Heeb would not give disabled Vietnamese Americans citations for leaving their trash bins on the curb; Heeb would not unwittingly make an Asian American ethnicity the point of a story involving an Asian American -- Heeb would do it on purpose!; and Heeb would not eat Thanksgiving turkey with his fingers and then stab his nephew for asking him not to ... okay, well maybe he would, but that kinda turns me on.
Heeb, baby, don't leave me hangin after I give you everything! Baby! Call me!
xxxooo
Hyphen
Posted by claire at 4:37 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
I got to see an advance screening of House of Flying Daggers this week. Zhang Yimou—the director of Hero, Ju Dou and tons of other great flicks—directs Zhang Ziyi, Takeshi Kaneshiro and Andy Lau in a gorgeous homage to wuxia cinema.
The story surrounds an underground sect—the House of Flying Daggers—rising up during the waning years of the Tang Dynasty. One of its operatives, Mei (Zhang Ziyi), wiles her way into the arms of the local army captain, Jin (Takeshi Kaneshiro). Meanwhile, the other captain Leo (Andy Lau) attempts to squash the uprising while maintaining a secret alliance.
House of Flying Daggers is everything one would expect from Zhang Yimou boosted with a human element. The scenery—much of it filmed in the Ukraine—is so visually stunning that each shot looks like a fresh painting come to life. Kaneshiro and Lau show extraordinary depth while Zhang does her best Gong Li/Meryl Streep impressions (while still kicking much ass). There’s plenty of high-wire fighting and the CGI-enhanced effects—the camera following a hurtling rock, a shooting bamboo or arrow through the air as it hits its target—are cool the first couple of times but I thought Zhang Yimou went to the well too many times.
I would characterize HOFD as occupying the middle space between Hero and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. It retains some of Hero’s expansive and handsome looks while maintaining Ang Lee’s soft emotional touches. I’ll probably go see it again.
One of my favorite timewasters is annointing new movies a porno movie name (Better Luck Tomorrow = Better F#cked Tomorrow, etc.). House of Flying Daggers? House of Flying Peckers. Thank you, goodnight!
Posted by at 12:20 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
I got to see an advance screening of House of Flying Daggers this week. Zhang Yimou—the director of Hero, Ju Dou and tons of other great flicks—directs Zhang Ziyi, Takeshi Kaneshiro and Andy Lau in a gorgeous homage to wuxia cinema.
The story surrounds an underground sect—the House of Flying Daggers—rising up during the waning years of the Tang Dynasty. One of its operatives, Mei (Zhang Ziyi), wiles her way into the arms of the local army captain, Jin (Takeshi Kaneshiro). Meanwhile, the other captain Leo (Andy Lau) attempts to squash the uprising while maintaining a secret alliance.
House of Flying Daggers is everything one would expect from Zhang Yimou boosted with a human element. The scenery—much of it filmed in the Ukraine—is so visually stunning that each shot looks like a fresh painting come to life. Kaneshiro and Lau show extraordinary depth while Zhang does her best Gong Li/Meryl Streep impressions (while still kicking much ass). There’s plenty of high-wire fighting and the CGI-enhanced effects—the camera following a hurtling rock, a shooting bamboo or arrow through the air as it hits its target—are cool the first couple of times but I thought Zhang Yimou went to the well too many times.
I would characterize HOFD as occupying the middle space between Hero and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. It retains some of Hero’s expansive and handsome looks while maintaining Ang Lee’s soft emotional touches. I’ll probably go see it again.
One of my favorite timewasters is annointing new movies a porno movie name (Better Luck Tomorrow = Better F#cked Tomorrow, etc.). House of Flying Daggers? House of Flying Peckers. Thank you, goodnight!
Posted by at 12:20 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
I got to see an advance screening of House of Flying Daggers this week. Zhang Yimouthe director of Hero, Ju Dou and tons of other great flicksdirects Zhang Ziyi, Takeshi Kaneshiro and Andy Lau in a gorgeous homage to wuxia cinema.
The story surrounds an underground sectthe House of Flying Daggersrising up during the waning years of the Tang Dynasty. One of its operatives, Mei (Zhang Ziyi), wiles her way into the arms of the local army captain, Jin (Takeshi Kaneshiro). Meanwhile, the other captain Leo (Andy Lau) attempts to squash the uprising while maintaining a secret alliance.
House of Flying Daggers is everything one would expect from Zhang Yimou boosted with a human element. The scenerymuch of it filmed in the Ukraineis so visually stunning that each shot looks like a fresh painting come to life. Kaneshiro and Lau show extraordinary depth while Zhang does her best Gong Li/Meryl Streep impressions (while still kicking much ass). Theres plenty of high-wire fighting and the CGI-enhanced effectsthe camera following a hurtling rock, a shooting bamboo or arrow through the air as it hits its targetare cool the first couple of times but I thought Zhang Yimou went to the well too many times.
I would characterize HOFD as occupying the middle space between Hero and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. It retains some of Heros expansive and handsome looks while maintaining Ang Lees soft emotional touches. Ill probably go see it again.
One of my favorite timewasters is annointing new movies a porno movie name (Better Luck Tomorrow = Better F#cked Tomorrow, etc.). House of Flying Daggers? House of Flying Peckers. Thank you, goodnight!
Posted by todd at 12:20 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
I come from a family of Republicans, my older brother included. He and I are so different, it's amazing we come from the same gene pool. When I was a teenager, my brother listened to bad country music (there is good country out there) while I was just getting out of my punk rock phase. He became a Born Again Christian while I was exploring Tibetan Buddhism.
As far as politics go, even in my extended family I am a bit of a black sheep (my younger cousin J, excluded). The week before elections, I was down in Milpitas (for you non-Bay Areans, that is near San Jose) visiting my Auntie Baby (every Filipino has an Auntie Baby). As I was eating my fish and rice, she asked me (excuse the Filipino accent), "Who are you boting por, Kerry or Boose?" I already knew she'd probably go off on some diatribe about Kerry, so I diplomatically said, "I don't know. I never favored either candidate from the start, but I'm definitely not voting for Bush." Auntie Baby gave me a funny look then replied, "I'm going to bote por Boose. Dat Kerry, I don't like hees pace."
I held my tongue, but I started thinking, "What if this nation actually did elect presidents based on their face?" Asia Carrera for president, anyone? (Well, considering that she's a porn star, I know the male constituents wouldn't exactly be voting for her based on "face." But hell, she's a MENSA-certified porn star!)
When I flew down to San Diego for Thanksgiving, my second oldest auntie and her husband (my Uncle Johnny) picked me up from the airport (my dad is the fourth oldest out of ten). While they prepared merienda (early afternoon snack) for me, they asked me who I voted for in the recent election. When I told them, my Uncle Johnny shook his head and said, "You kids nowadays. Liberal talaga." He mentioned something about how some of my younger cousins voted for Kerry. He wasn't mad, but he said all this with a tinge of disappointment.
I mean, I understand why the first generation of my family is Republican: None of us would have been able to immigrate or be born in the States had my dad not joined the US Navy (and become a US citizen through his service, thus gaining the ability to petition his family to live here). My family started out poor in the Philippines, living in the shadow of Subic's US Naval Airbase just outside of Olongapo City. As a boy, my dad used to shine the shoes of American sailors and soldiers. Now everyone is middle class in America and can afford cars for their teenaged children. And thanks to the Navy, many of my cousins can go to college (on the US government's dollar) using military educational benefits.
However it boggles the mind that my family (still speaking of the older generation) can support a leadership that is trying to enforce a backdoor draft, that wages a drawn out and expensive war over oil ("terrorism") in Iraq, that puts in place something like the Patriot Act, and allows for unethical Tuskeegee Syphilis Experiment-like testing on children in New York City. This laundry list could go on...
Many times I have wanted to sit down with certain members of my family and talk politics with them, but then the language barrier prevents me from doing so. There are certain words and ideas that don't translate. I often wonder if my family might think that someone like me is ungrateful?
P.S. - Just wanted to give a footnote salamat to my best friend Y for the BBC article link on HIV drug-testing. Triple5FunkyPinay holdin' it down!
Posted by Audrey at 11:59 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
I come from a family of Republicans, my older brother included. He and I are so different, it's amazing we come from the same gene pool. When I was a teenager, my brother listened to bad country music (there is good country out there) while I was just getting out of my punk rock phase. He became a Born Again Christian while I was exploring Tibetan Buddhism.
As far as politics go, even in my extended family I am a bit of a black sheep (my younger cousin J, excluded). The week before elections, I was down in Milpitas (for you non-Bay Areans, that is near San Jose) visiting my Auntie Baby (every Filipino has an Auntie Baby). As I was eating my fish and rice, she asked me (excuse the Filipino accent), "Who are you boting por, Kerry or Boose?" I already knew she'd probably go off on some diatribe about Kerry, so I diplomatically said, "I don't know. I never favored either candidate from the start, but I'm definitely not voting for Bush." Auntie Baby gave me a funny look then replied, "I'm going to bote por Boose. Dat Kerry, I don't like hees pace."
I held my tongue, but I started thinking, "What if this nation actually did elect presidents based on their face?" Asia Carrera for president, anyone? (Well, considering that she's a porn star, I know the male constituents wouldn't exactly be voting for her based on "face." But hell, she's a MENSA-certified porn star!)
When I flew down to San Diego for Thanksgiving, my second oldest auntie and her husband (my Uncle Johnny) picked me up from the airport (my dad is the fourth oldest out of ten). While they prepared merienda (early afternoon snack) for me, they asked me who I voted for in the recent election. When I told them, my Uncle Johnny shook his head and said, "You kids nowadays. Liberal talaga." He mentioned something about how some of my younger cousins voted for Kerry. He wasn't mad, but he said all this with a tinge of disappointment.
I mean, I understand why the first generation of my family is Republican: None of us would have been able to immigrate or be born in the States had my dad not joined the US Navy (and become a US citizen through his service, thus gaining the ability to petition his family to live here). My family started out poor in the Philippines, living in the shadow of Subic's US Naval Airbase just outside of Olongapo City. As a boy, my dad used to shine the shoes of American sailors and soldiers. Now everyone is middle class in America and can afford cars for their teenaged children. And thanks to the Navy, many of my cousins can go to college (on the US government's dollar) using military educational benefits.
However it boggles the mind that my family (still speaking of the older generation) can support a leadership that is trying to enforce a backdoor draft, that wages a drawn out and expensive war over oil ("terrorism") in Iraq, that puts in place something like the Patriot Act, and allows for unethical Tuskeegee Syphilis Experiment-like testing on children in New York City. This laundry list could go on...
Many times I have wanted to sit down with certain members of my family and talk politics with them, but then the language barrier prevents me from doing so. There are certain words and ideas that don't translate. I often wonder if my family might think that someone like me is ungrateful?
P.S. - Just wanted to give a footnote salamat to my best friend Y for the BBC article link on HIV drug-testing. Triple5FunkyPinay holdin' it down!
Posted by Audrey at 11:59 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
I come from a family of Republicans, my older brother included. He and I are so different, it's amazing we come from the same gene pool. When I was a teenager, my brother listened to bad country music (there is good country out there) while I was just getting out of my punk rock phase. He became a Born Again Christian while I was exploring Tibetan Buddhism.
As far as politics go, even in my extended family I am a bit of a black sheep (my younger cousin J, excluded). The week before elections, I was down in Milpitas (for you non-Bay Areans, that is near San Jose) visiting my Auntie Baby (every Filipino has an Auntie Baby). As I was eating my fish and rice, she asked me (excuse the Filipino accent), "Who are you boting por, Kerry or Boose?" I already knew she'd probably go off on some diatribe about Kerry, so I diplomatically said, "I don't know. I never favored either candidate from the start, but I'm definitely not voting for Bush." Auntie Baby gave me a funny look then replied, "I'm going to bote por Boose. Dat Kerry, I don't like hees pace."
I held my tongue, but I started thinking, "What if this nation actually did elect presidents based on their face?" Asia Carrera for president, anyone? (Well, considering that she's a porn star, I know the male constituents wouldn't exactly be voting for her based on "face." But hell, she's a MENSA-certified porn star!)
When I flew down to San Diego for Thanksgiving, my second oldest auntie and her husband (my Uncle Johnny) picked me up from the airport (my dad is the fourth oldest out of ten). While they prepared merienda (early afternoon snack) for me, they asked me who I voted for in the recent election. When I told them, my Uncle Johnny shook his head and said, "You kids nowadays. Liberal talaga." He mentioned something about how some of my younger cousins voted for Kerry. He wasn't mad, but he said all this with a tinge of disappointment.
I mean, I understand why the first generation of my family is Republican: None of us would have been able to immigrate or be born in the States had my dad not joined the US Navy (and become a US citizen through his service, thus gaining the ability to petition his family to live here). My family started out poor in the Philippines, living in the shadow of Subic's US Naval Airbase just outside of Olongapo City. As a boy, my dad used to shine the shoes of American sailors and soldiers. Now everyone is middle class in America and can afford cars for their teenaged children. And thanks to the Navy, many of my cousins can go to college (on the US government's dollar) using military educational benefits.
However it boggles the mind that my family (still speaking of the older generation) can support a leadership that is trying to enforce a backdoor draft, that wages a drawn out and expensive war over oil ("terrorism") in Iraq, that puts in place something like the Patriot Act, and allows for unethical Tuskeegee Syphilis Experiment-like testing on children in New York City. This laundry list could go on...
Many times I have wanted to sit down with certain members of my family and talk politics with them, but then the language barrier prevents me from doing so. There are certain words and ideas that don't translate. I often wonder if my family might think that someone like me is ungrateful?
P.S. - Just wanted to give a footnote salamat to my best friend Y for the BBC article link on HIV drug-testing. Triple5FunkyPinay holdin' it down!
Posted by Audrey at 11:59 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
Lately, Sandra Oh is everywhere. Perhaps that's an exaggeration, but her face popped out from Entertainment Weekly at me yesterday, a whole blurb devoted to her. A blurb! AND she's beating up a white dude with her purse in the trailer for Sideways, she was in that Under the Tuscan Sun film, and she's got a bumper crop of indie film releases coming up.
I'm actually a huge fan of lists (also tables and Venn diagrams)so here are my top seven reasons why Sandra Oh is cool.
7. She won the Fipa D'Or for Best Actress at Cannes for her starring role as Evelyn Lau, in The Diary of Evelyn Lau.
6. She's Canadian. Something most of us can only aspire to.
5. She's pretty, but not so pretty she doesn't have to be talented, too.
4. She's never played a silent kung-fu ninja dragon lady who throttles her opponents with her inner thighs.
3. She once said, "If there's another @#$% movie or TV show about New York where everyone is white, I'm going to @#$*&ing die. That is so unacceptable."
2. Producers for the HBO series Arli$$ created the role of Rita Wu for her, since the original character was white. Way to get more Asian faces out there!
1. She's in four, count them, four independent films due out next year: Cake, an Untitled Post-9/11 Cab Drama, 3 Needles, and Hard Candy.
So maybe Sandra Oh is not everywhere, but she will be soon. Mark my word.
Posted by jennifer at 12:32 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Lately, Sandra Oh is everywhere. Perhaps that's an exaggeration, but her face popped out from Entertainment Weekly at me yesterday, a whole blurb devoted to her. A blurb! AND she's beating up a white dude with her purse in the trailer for Sideways, she was in that Under the Tuscan Sun film, and she's got a bumper crop of indie film releases coming up.
I'm actually a huge fan of lists (also tables and Venn diagrams)so here are my top seven reasons why Sandra Oh is cool.
7. She won the Fipa D'Or for Best Actress at Cannes for her starring role as Evelyn Lau, in The Diary of Evelyn Lau.
6. She's Canadian. Something most of us can only aspire to.
5. She's pretty, but not so pretty she doesn't have to be talented, too.
4. She's never played a silent kung-fu ninja dragon lady who throttles her opponents with her inner thighs.
3. She once said, "If there's another @#$% movie or TV show about New York where everyone is white, I'm going to @#$*&ing die. That is so unacceptable."
2. Producers for the HBO series Arli$$ created the role of Rita Wu for her, since the original character was white. Way to get more Asian faces out there!
1. She's in four, count them, four independent films due out next year: Cake, an Untitled Post-9/11 Cab Drama, 3 Needles, and Hard Candy.
So maybe Sandra Oh is not everywhere, but she will be soon. Mark my word.
Posted by jennifer at 12:32 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Lately, Sandra Oh is everywhere. Perhaps that's an exaggeration, but her face popped out from Entertainment Weekly at me yesterday, a whole blurb devoted to her. A blurb! AND she's beating up a white dude with her purse in the trailer for Sideways, she was in that Under the Tuscan Sun film, and she's got a bumper crop of indie film releases coming up.
I'm actually a huge fan of lists (also tables and Venn diagrams)so here are my top seven reasons why Sandra Oh is cool.
7. She won the Fipa D'Or for Best Actress at Cannes for her starring role as Evelyn Lau, in The Diary of Evelyn Lau.
6. She's Canadian. Something most of us can only aspire to.
5. She's pretty, but not so pretty she doesn't have to be talented, too.
4. She's never played a silent kung-fu ninja dragon lady who throttles her opponents with her inner thighs.
3. She once said, "If there's another @#$% movie or TV show about New York where everyone is white, I'm going to @#$*&ing die. That is so unacceptable."
2. Producers for the HBO series Arli$$ created the role of Rita Wu for her, since the original character was white. Way to get more Asian faces out there!
1. She's in four, count them, four independent films due out next year: Cake, an Untitled Post-9/11 Cab Drama, 3 Needles, and Hard Candy.
So maybe Sandra Oh is not everywhere, but she will be soon. Mark my word.
Posted by jennifer at 12:32 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
I really enjoyed this story by Annie Nakao that ran in yesterday’s San Francisco Chronicle about a spoof on the recent geisha exhibit at the Asian Art Museum.
The posters for "Geisha: Beyond the painted smile" were plastered all over the Bay Area this summer. The image stared out from the side of buses and hung from San Francisco streetlamps. There was no way to avoid it. And it bugged the hell out of artist Scott Tadashi Tsuchitani.
So he took matters into his own hands and created a spoof using a photograph of his own face. He taped his posters up in Japantown and even managed to get his spoof brochures into the actual racks at the museum. Very clever.
Tsuchitani argues that the image the museum used perpetuates stereotypes. Sensual Asian women! Eastern mystique! I think he hits it right on the head. The ad campaign (created by the same agency that brought us the "Got Milk?" ads) had bothered me too. Seeing his spoof, I understand exactly why it did. Hmm, maybe we should ask him to do some work for Hyphen.
Posted by Melissa at 11:47 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
I really enjoyed this story by Annie Nakao that ran in yesterday’s San Francisco Chronicle about a spoof on the recent geisha exhibit at the Asian Art Museum.
The posters for "Geisha: Beyond the painted smile" were plastered all over the Bay Area this summer. The image stared out from the side of buses and hung from San Francisco streetlamps. There was no way to avoid it. And it bugged the hell out of artist Scott Tadashi Tsuchitani.
So he took matters into his own hands and created a spoof using a photograph of his own face. He taped his posters up in Japantown and even managed to get his spoof brochures into the actual racks at the museum. Very clever.
Tsuchitani argues that the image the museum used perpetuates stereotypes. Sensual Asian women! Eastern mystique! I think he hits it right on the head. The ad campaign (created by the same agency that brought us the "Got Milk?" ads) had bothered me too. Seeing his spoof, I understand exactly why it did. Hmm, maybe we should ask him to do some work for Hyphen.
Posted by Melissa at 11:47 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
I really enjoyed this story by Annie Nakao that ran in yesterdays San Francisco Chronicle about a spoof on the recent geisha exhibit at the Asian Art Museum.
The posters for "Geisha: Beyond the painted smile" were plastered all over the Bay Area this summer. The image stared out from the side of buses and hung from San Francisco streetlamps. There was no way to avoid it. And it bugged the hell out of artist Scott Tadashi Tsuchitani.
So he took matters into his own hands and created a spoof using a photograph of his own face. He taped his posters up in Japantown and even managed to get his spoof brochures into the actual racks at the museum. Very clever.
Tsuchitani argues that the image the museum used perpetuates stereotypes. Sensual Asian women! Eastern mystique! I think he hits it right on the head. The ad campaign (created by the same agency that brought us the "Got Milk?" ads) had bothered me too. Seeing his spoof, I understand exactly why it did. Hmm, maybe we should ask him to do some work for Hyphen.
Posted by Melissa at 11:47 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
An article I read this week, from the online edition of the British paper The Guardian, brought some recent news to a point for me. "No offence, but why are all white men so aggressive?", by British writer Gary Younge, "flips the script" on offensive questions to people of color by posing a series of similar questions to white Brits. Younge writes: "Sometimes ... questions can be so pregnant with assumptions that they are, arguably, better left unanswered. Not because they do not relate to important issues, but because they are so loaded with prejudice and crippled by ignorance, thoughtless in tone and reckless in content, that the manner in which they are put renders them incapable of addressing important issues. To engage with them would be to legitimise their bias. ... Those who ask the questions of others without interrogating themselves are effectively saying: this is our world, you're just living in it."
So what? I hear some people saying already. People talking is a problem? People having a cultural exchange is a problem? Surely you're not saying that there's any connection between asking someone where they're from and real racism? Actually, that's exactly what I'm about to say. This fight gets fought out on a daily basis in small encounters, in small questions put to people who stand out, by people who don't. The daily failure to recognize the subtext of such encounters underlines that subtext, justifies it, makes it solid and real.
Why? Because, as Younge says above, to answer a question that your questioner is never asked is tacitly to agree with them that there's something wrong with you, or at least different about you; that the world belongs to those like them, and anyone who is not like them must account for herself. To answer that question is to admit that you're an interloper, a trespasser; to admit that those who belong have a right to question you. Again, Younge explains this better than I can: "the reason some people get defensive is because they feel that they are forever being attacked. ... Before there can be negotiation there must first be goodwill - the desire to fill in the gaps of knowledge and perspective. ... Without that, all we are left with is full-scale interrogation - the hostile questioning of the prosecution counsel: less of a conversation than a trial by presumption."
Why is this important? Because, at its base, it is about nullification, denying that the Other truly exists, or has a right to exist within a cultural space. When I try to make people aware of this subtext, most of my white friends think that I'm simply oversensitive, interpreting genuine interest in me as an attack. It's only when one's defenses are down, when one's adrenaline is up -- when the interrogator is drunk or very upset -- that the real spirit of an interchange comes out in more direct form and the questions and statements sound more like an attempt to attack or destroy. I've been told in such situations "You're so ugly" or "Go back where you came from!" or "Don't hate yourself just because you don't know who you are!" or even "You white trash ... Chinese trash!" So many opportunities are missed, so many clear demonstrations of the way we think about and act out race privilege are ignored or denied away. And then all at once the stakes are raised and the privilege, the power and the territoriality -- whose world it is and who gets to live in it -- gets played out in physical form.
Two weeks ago, a Hmong American literally trespassed into the world of a group of white Americans. Presumably, no one asked him where he was from, or dressed up their language in any way. They just told him to get out, and might have backed that up with a gunshot, or a few. He was alone, they called in backup. Whatever happened to start the exchange, it ended with six of the white hunters dead and all the blame on the outsider. There is no way to spin this story that would make it any less tragic. But in the next few months, the nature of that tragedy will be heavily in dispute. Could it have been avoided, and how? Was it a territorial dispute or a culture clash or an outright racist incident? Obviously, a man who would kill six people over an argument is disturbed, right? Right? Is there any way in the world the killing of six others can be justified as self defense?
At the moment, for me, the key to this question is: "Just how threatened did he feel?" If members of our dominant race can't recognize the attack implicit in "where do you come from, really?", then can they at least recognize the attack explicit in racial epithets cast by men brandishing hunting weapons? Is there any way to make it clear to a dominant majority that already feels embattled, that a racially motivated attack is not merely an immediate, singular attack, but a symptom of what the victim feels to be a culture-wide effort to erase his existence? Add a gun to that mix and what do you have? Early media efforts to be fair on this head don't bode well, as this article demonstrates: the writer only has "culture clash" to suggest, all the while underlining the "this is our world, you're just hunting in it" subtext of the region's ongoing conflict.
Before rushing to condemn the shooter, maybe for once in its mea-culpa-allergic history the United States -- that is, all of us -- can stop and ask ourselves for a moment if we've ever contributed anything to a culture that makes such confrontations possible ... daily with words, and sometimes tragically with guns.
Posted by claire at 5:37 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
An article I read this week, from the online edition of the British paper The Guardian, brought some recent news to a point for me. "No offence, but why are all white men so aggressive?", by British writer Gary Younge, "flips the script" on offensive questions to people of color by posing a series of similar questions to white Brits. Younge writes: "Sometimes ... questions can be so pregnant with assumptions that they are, arguably, better left unanswered. Not because they do not relate to important issues, but because they are so loaded with prejudice and crippled by ignorance, thoughtless in tone and reckless in content, that the manner in which they are put renders them incapable of addressing important issues. To engage with them would be to legitimise their bias. ... Those who ask the questions of others without interrogating themselves are effectively saying: this is our world, you're just living in it."
So what? I hear some people saying already. People talking is a problem? People having a cultural exchange is a problem? Surely you're not saying that there's any connection between asking someone where they're from and real racism? Actually, that's exactly what I'm about to say. This fight gets fought out on a daily basis in small encounters, in small questions put to people who stand out, by people who don't. The daily failure to recognize the subtext of such encounters underlines that subtext, justifies it, makes it solid and real.
Why? Because, as Younge says above, to answer a question that your questioner is never asked is tacitly to agree with them that there's something wrong with you, or at least different about you; that the world belongs to those like them, and anyone who is not like them must account for herself. To answer that question is to admit that you're an interloper, a trespasser; to admit that those who belong have a right to question you. Again, Younge explains this better than I can: "the reason some people get defensive is because they feel that they are forever being attacked. ... Before there can be negotiation there must first be goodwill - the desire to fill in the gaps of knowledge and perspective. ... Without that, all we are left with is full-scale interrogation - the hostile questioning of the prosecution counsel: less of a conversation than a trial by presumption."
Why is this important? Because, at its base, it is about nullification, denying that the Other truly exists, or has a right to exist within a cultural space. When I try to make people aware of this subtext, most of my white friends think that I'm simply oversensitive, interpreting genuine interest in me as an attack. It's only when one's defenses are down, when one's adrenaline is up -- when the interrogator is drunk or very upset -- that the real spirit of an interchange comes out in more direct form and the questions and statements sound more like an attempt to attack or destroy. I've been told in such situations "You're so ugly" or "Go back where you came from!" or "Don't hate yourself just because you don't know who you are!" or even "You white trash ... Chinese trash!" So many opportunities are missed, so many clear demonstrations of the way we think about and act out race privilege are ignored or denied away. And then all at once the stakes are raised and the privilege, the power and the territoriality -- whose world it is and who gets to live in it -- gets played out in physical form.
Two weeks ago, a Hmong American literally trespassed into the world of a group of white Americans. Presumably, no one asked him where he was from, or dressed up their language in any way. They just told him to get out, and might have backed that up with a gunshot, or a few. He was alone, they called in backup. Whatever happened to start the exchange, it ended with six of the white hunters dead and all the blame on the outsider. There is no way to spin this story that would make it any less tragic. But in the next few months, the nature of that tragedy will be heavily in dispute. Could it have been avoided, and how? Was it a territorial dispute or a culture clash or an outright racist incident? Obviously, a man who would kill six people over an argument is disturbed, right? Right? Is there any way in the world the killing of six others can be justified as self defense?
At the moment, for me, the key to this question is: "Just how threatened did he feel?" If members of our dominant race can't recognize the attack implicit in "where do you come from, really?", then can they at least recognize the attack explicit in racial epithets cast by men brandishing hunting weapons? Is there any way to make it clear to a dominant majority that already feels embattled, that a racially motivated attack is not merely an immediate, singular attack, but a symptom of what the victim feels to be a culture-wide effort to erase his existence? Add a gun to that mix and what do you have? Early media efforts to be fair on this head don't bode well, as this article demonstrates: the writer only has "culture clash" to suggest, all the while underlining the "this is our world, you're just hunting in it" subtext of the region's ongoing conflict.
Before rushing to condemn the shooter, maybe for once in its mea-culpa-allergic history the United States -- that is, all of us -- can stop and ask ourselves for a moment if we've ever contributed anything to a culture that makes such confrontations possible ... daily with words, and sometimes tragically with guns.
Posted by claire at 5:37 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
An article I read this week, from the online edition of the British paper The Guardian, brought some recent news to a point for me. "No offence, but why are all white men so aggressive?", by British writer Gary Younge, "flips the script" on offensive questions to people of color by posing a series of similar questions to white Brits. Younge writes: "Sometimes ... questions can be so pregnant with assumptions that they are, arguably, better left unanswered. Not because they do not relate to important issues, but because they are so loaded with prejudice and crippled by ignorance, thoughtless in tone and reckless in content, that the manner in which they are put renders them incapable of addressing important issues. To engage with them would be to legitimise their bias. ... Those who ask the questions of others without interrogating themselves are effectively saying: this is our world, you're just living in it."
So what? I hear some people saying already. People talking is a problem? People having a cultural exchange is a problem? Surely you're not saying that there's any connection between asking someone where they're from and real racism? Actually, that's exactly what I'm about to say. This fight gets fought out on a daily basis in small encounters, in small questions put to people who stand out, by people who don't. The daily failure to recognize the subtext of such encounters underlines that subtext, justifies it, makes it solid and real.
Why? Because, as Younge says above, to answer a question that your questioner is never asked is tacitly to agree with them that there's something wrong with you, or at least different about you; that the world belongs to those like them, and anyone who is not like them must account for herself. To answer that question is to admit that you're an interloper, a trespasser; to admit that those who belong have a right to question you. Again, Younge explains this better than I can: "the reason some people get defensive is because they feel that they are forever being attacked. ... Before there can be negotiation there must first be goodwill - the desire to fill in the gaps of knowledge and perspective. ... Without that, all we are left with is full-scale interrogation - the hostile questioning of the prosecution counsel: less of a conversation than a trial by presumption."
Why is this important? Because, at its base, it is about nullification, denying that the Other truly exists, or has a right to exist within a cultural space. When I try to make people aware of this subtext, most of my white friends think that I'm simply oversensitive, interpreting genuine interest in me as an attack. It's only when one's defenses are down, when one's adrenaline is up -- when the interrogator is drunk or very upset -- that the real spirit of an interchange comes out in more direct form and the questions and statements sound more like an attempt to attack or destroy. I've been told in such situations "You're so ugly" or "Go back where you came from!" or "Don't hate yourself just because you don't know who you are!" or even "You white trash ... Chinese trash!" So many opportunities are missed, so many clear demonstrations of the way we think about and act out race privilege are ignored or denied away. And then all at once the stakes are raised and the privilege, the power and the territoriality -- whose world it is and who gets to live in it -- gets played out in physical form.
Two weeks ago, a Hmong American literally trespassed into the world of a group of white Americans. Presumably, no one asked him where he was from, or dressed up their language in any way. They just told him to get out, and might have backed that up with a gunshot, or a few. He was alone, they called in backup. Whatever happened to start the exchange, it ended with six of the white hunters dead and all the blame on the outsider. There is no way to spin this story that would make it any less tragic. But in the next few months, the nature of that tragedy will be heavily in dispute. Could it have been avoided, and how? Was it a territorial dispute or a culture clash or an outright racist incident? Obviously, a man who would kill six people over an argument is disturbed, right? Right? Is there any way in the world the killing of six others can be justified as self defense?
At the moment, for me, the key to this question is: "Just how threatened did he feel?" If members of our dominant race can't recognize the attack implicit in "where do you come from, really?", then can they at least recognize the attack explicit in racial epithets cast by men brandishing hunting weapons? Is there any way to make it clear to a dominant majority that already feels embattled, that a racially motivated attack is not merely an immediate, singular attack, but a symptom of what the victim feels to be a culture-wide effort to erase his existence? Add a gun to that mix and what do you have? Early media efforts to be fair on this head don't bode well, as this article demonstrates: the writer only has "culture clash" to suggest, all the while underlining the "this is our world, you're just hunting in it" subtext of the region's ongoing conflict.
Before rushing to condemn the shooter, maybe for once in its mea-culpa-allergic history the United States -- that is, all of us -- can stop and ask ourselves for a moment if we've ever contributed anything to a culture that makes such confrontations possible ... daily with words, and sometimes tragically with guns.
Posted by claire at 5:37 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
I had to comment on this phenomenon heralding kimchi, rice and spam (KRaS) as Hyphen's official sustenance source. Can I specify adding fried egg to the equation? That’s the way I’ve been eating it since I knew how to cook for myself so when I first heard other staffers talking KRaS and omitting egg, I gave them a sideways look. It’s like only knowing meatloaf without onions and breadcrumbs. You GOTTA have egg or its incomplete. It ain’t wrong—I fish out the egg yolk in kimchi chigae and B. thinks I’m weird—but KRaS without egg sure ain’t right.
It used to be a morning meal, usually Sundays when there was some two-day old leftover rice in the pot, but it’s upgraded to dinner on those nights when real cooking is out of the question. KRaS&E is total peasant food but it does the job. Some protein (egg), some starch (rice), veggie (kimchi) and sodium (Spam). I’ll arrange it in a bowl, all decorative-like. Huge mound of steamed rice, slabs of fried Spam flared out around the bowl to resemble petals, and an over easy egg (or two) jiggling on top, like the capitulum of a springtime daisy, kimchi riding shotgun.
Top with shoyu. Mash the egg. So good. I've eaten this while watching Iron Chef and didn't feel like I was missing anything. So next time a Hyphen staffer brings up KRaS in your company, rap a knuckle on their forehead and say, “Egg! Egg! Don’t forget the egg!”
Posted by at 9:23 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
I had to comment on this phenomenon heralding kimchi, rice and spam (KRaS) as Hyphen's official sustenance source. Can I specify adding fried egg to the equation? That’s the way I’ve been eating it since I knew how to cook for myself so when I first heard other staffers talking KRaS and omitting egg, I gave them a sideways look. It’s like only knowing meatloaf without onions and breadcrumbs. You GOTTA have egg or its incomplete. It ain’t wrong—I fish out the egg yolk in kimchi chigae and B. thinks I’m weird—but KRaS without egg sure ain’t right.
It used to be a morning meal, usually Sundays when there was some two-day old leftover rice in the pot, but it’s upgraded to dinner on those nights when real cooking is out of the question. KRaS&E is total peasant food but it does the job. Some protein (egg), some starch (rice), veggie (kimchi) and sodium (Spam). I’ll arrange it in a bowl, all decorative-like. Huge mound of steamed rice, slabs of fried Spam flared out around the bowl to resemble petals, and an over easy egg (or two) jiggling on top, like the capitulum of a springtime daisy, kimchi riding shotgun.
Top with shoyu. Mash the egg. So good. I've eaten this while watching Iron Chef and didn't feel like I was missing anything. So next time a Hyphen staffer brings up KRaS in your company, rap a knuckle on their forehead and say, “Egg! Egg! Don’t forget the egg!”
Posted by at 9:23 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
I had to comment on this phenomenon heralding kimchi, rice and spam (KRaS) as Hyphen's official sustenance source. Can I specify adding fried egg to the equation? Thats the way Ive been eating it since I knew how to cook for myself so when I first heard other staffers talking KRaS and omitting egg, I gave them a sideways look. Its like only knowing meatloaf without onions and breadcrumbs. You GOTTA have egg or its incomplete. It aint wrongI fish out the egg yolk in kimchi chigae and B. thinks Im weirdbut KRaS without egg sure aint right.
It used to be a morning meal, usually Sundays when there was some two-day old leftover rice in the pot, but its upgraded to dinner on those nights when real cooking is out of the question. KRaS&E is total peasant food but it does the job. Some protein (egg), some starch (rice), veggie (kimchi) and sodium (Spam). Ill arrange it in a bowl, all decorative-like. Huge mound of steamed rice, slabs of fried Spam flared out around the bowl to resemble petals, and an over easy egg (or two) jiggling on top, like the capitulum of a springtime daisy, kimchi riding shotgun.
Top with shoyu. Mash the egg. So good. I've eaten this while watching Iron Chef and didn't feel like I was missing anything. So next time a Hyphen staffer brings up KRaS in your company, rap a knuckle on their forehead and say, Egg! Egg! Dont forget the egg!
Posted by todd at 9:23 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
After spending six days in San Diego with my extended family for the Thanksgiving Holiday, I have come back obsessed with the musical variety shows that air on The Filipino Channel (or "TFC" for the already initiated). I mentioned TFC variety shows briefly in my post from last week. If my younger cousins didn't have the TV on MTV, Fuse or BET, then my aunties had it on TFC.
I watched so much TFC, I returned to the Bay Area wanting to get TFC at home (Melissa would love that), just so I can immerse myself in Tagalog and maybe learn to speak better by osmosis. Buddha help me, I can't remember the name of the fat, old, gay guy who's supposed to be the Filipino version of Simon from American Idol. (I don't know about you, but if I had to choose between getting a verbal beatdown from some ornery British guy or a Filipino queen, I'd go with Simon. It's hard to argue with a diva.)
But I digress.
I have always know that American-born (or Canadian-born) Filipinos sometimes go to the Philippines and become big stars. Filipinos call this "balikbayan star." In order to become a big balikbayan star, (assuming one doesn't speak Tagalog very well), one would start out as a dancer on a musical variety show, then become one of the featured singer/dancers. After getting a better handle of Tagalog (from singing OPM, Original Pilipino Music), they might also star in a novela (soap opera), and from there they become a "triple threat" (dancer, singer, actor).
From what I've observed, you don't necessarily have to be talented to make it in the Motherland. As long as you have light skin (look mestizo [mixed/hapa]), can say a few words in Tagalog, and are cute--you TOO could be a balikbayan superstar! You'll totally be groomed to become not only a bongga (fabulous) superstar, but more Filipino-Filipino (you'll do interviews in English, but speak with an exaggerated Filipino accent).
I know this phenomenon (balikbayan star) isn't specific to Filipinos or the Philippines, because I know of Canto-pop singers (and singing groups) in Hong Kong that are American, and seen documentaries about young South Asians (from Canada or the States) trying to break into Bollywood. Aside from my "Filipino-ness," I think the main reason this phenomenon is so interesting is because of the deeper social implications of this "karaoke culture."
Why is it always Filipinos playing the part of Asian minstrel? Go anywhere in Asia and you'll always find a hotel or bar/club where there's a Filipino band or Filipino singers, and they can mimic American music so well, you'd think you were listening to the original. Why is Karaoke Culture taken to the extreme in the Philippines? I would love to do a study on this, so don't you steal my idea!
As much as this "phenomenon" shames me, I admit that I eat it up just as my aunties do. What this says about me, I don't know. (Okay: Hyprocrite.) Although I do consider myself to be somewhat of a hipster, I embrace my geekiness: I love going out to sing karaoke with my friends, I actually like to listen to Destiny's Child, and (gasp!) I have finally found pleasure in watching musical variety shows on TFC. I don't like watching the singers dress up like Cyndi Lauper or Stevie Wonder, singing "True Colors" or "Ribbon in the Sky." And I can't stand to watch singers try to knock out Justin Timberlake, Kelis (yes, "Milkshake"), or Ciara--basically all the music that's on urban radio in the States at the moment. (I cringe when I see one of these mestizo singers say the word "nigga" or American slang, because it's a part of the song.) But the cornball in me loves to hear good singers belt out those ballads.
On Sunday night, while eating dinner, TFC was showing a (recorded) live concert from San Francisco's Civic Center Plaza. It was dubbed "Night of Champions" and featured singers who won previous Star in a Million or Star Circle Quest competitions (the Philippines' versions of American Idol). All my aunties were like, "Where is that concert taking place?" I could easily identify City Hall in the background, so I said, "That's definitely San Francisco." As the camera panned on the crowd, showing this mass of Filipinos in the audience, I joked, "I bet you all of the Excelsior District, Daly City and Vallejo came to represent." Being with SoCal Filipinos, nobody appreciated my joke.
As much as I rag on this Karaoke Culture thing, I'm a microphone hog when it comes to karaoke, so I have to admit that the latent "diva" in me wouldn't mind being one of those triple threat wannabes. I could get down with being one of those "Kikay Girls," "Hot Babes" or "Sex Bomb Dancers" on ASAP Mania or MTB Mga Saya-Saya. Maybe in another lifetime.
Posted by Audrey at 9:11 AM | Comments (9) | TrackBack
After spending six days in San Diego with my extended family for the Thanksgiving Holiday, I have come back obsessed with the musical variety shows that air on The Filipino Channel (or "TFC" for the already initiated). I mentioned TFC variety shows briefly in my post from last week. If my younger cousins didn't have the TV on MTV, Fuse or BET, then my aunties had it on TFC.
I watched so much TFC, I returned to the Bay Area wanting to get TFC at home (Melissa would love that), just so I can immerse myself in Tagalog and maybe learn to speak better by osmosis. Buddha help me, I can't remember the name of the fat, old, gay guy who's supposed to be the Filipino version of Simon from American Idol. (I don't know about you, but if I had to choose between getting a verbal beatdown from some ornery British guy or a Filipino queen, I'd go with Simon. It's hard to argue with a diva.)
But I digress.
I have always know that American-born (or Canadian-born) Filipinos sometimes go to the Philippines and become big stars. Filipinos call this "balikbayan star." In order to become a big balikbayan star, (assuming one doesn't speak Tagalog very well), one would start out as a dancer on a musical variety show, then become one of the featured singer/dancers. After getting a better handle of Tagalog (from singing OPM, Original Pilipino Music), they might also star in a novela (soap opera), and from there they become a "triple threat" (dancer, singer, actor).
From what I've observed, you don't necessarily have to be talented to make it in the Motherland. As long as you have light skin (look mestizo [mixed/hapa]), can say a few words in Tagalog, and are cute--you TOO could be a balikbayan superstar! You'll totally be groomed to become not only a bongga (fabulous) superstar, but more Filipino-Filipino (you'll do interviews in English, but speak with an exaggerated Filipino accent).
I know this phenomenon (balikbayan star) isn't specific to Filipinos or the Philippines, because I know of Canto-pop singers (and singing groups) in Hong Kong that are American, and seen documentaries about young South Asians (from Canada or the States) trying to break into Bollywood. Aside from my "Filipino-ness," I think the main reason this phenomenon is so interesting is because of the deeper social implications of this "karaoke culture."
Why is it always Filipinos playing the part of Asian minstrel? Go anywhere in Asia and you'll always find a hotel or bar/club where there's a Filipino band or Filipino singers, and they can mimic American music so well, you'd think you were listening to the original. Why is Karaoke Culture taken to the extreme in the Philippines? I would love to do a study on this, so don't you steal my idea!
As much as this "phenomenon" shames me, I admit that I eat it up just as my aunties do. What this says about me, I don't know. (Okay: Hyprocrite.) Although I do consider myself to be somewhat of a hipster, I embrace my geekiness: I love going out to sing karaoke with my friends, I actually like to listen to Destiny's Child, and (gasp!) I have finally found pleasure in watching musical variety shows on TFC. I don't like watching the singers dress up like Cyndi Lauper or Stevie Wonder, singing "True Colors" or "Ribbon in the Sky." And I can't stand to watch singers try to knock out Justin Timberlake, Kelis (yes, "Milkshake"), or Ciara--basically all the music that's on urban radio in the States at the moment. (I cringe when I see one of these mestizo singers say the word "nigga" or American slang, because it's a part of the song.) But the cornball in me loves to hear good singers belt out those ballads.
On Sunday night, while eating dinner, TFC was showing a (recorded) live concert from San Francisco's Civic Center Plaza. It was dubbed "Night of Champions" and featured singers who won previous Star in a Million or Star Circle Quest competitions (the Philippines' versions of American Idol). All my aunties were like, "Where is that concert taking place?" I could easily identify City Hall in the background, so I said, "That's definitely San Francisco." As the camera panned on the crowd, showing this mass of Filipinos in the audience, I joked, "I bet you all of the Excelsior District, Daly City and Vallejo came to represent." Being with SoCal Filipinos, nobody appreciated my joke.
As much as I rag on this Karaoke Culture thing, I'm a microphone hog when it comes to karaoke, so I have to admit that the latent "diva" in me wouldn't mind being one of those triple threat wannabes. I could get down with being one of those "Kikay Girls," "Hot Babes" or "Sex Bomb Dancers" on ASAP Mania or MTB Mga Saya-Saya. Maybe in another lifetime.
Posted by Audrey at 9:11 AM | Comments (9) | TrackBack
After spending six days in San Diego with my extended family for the Thanksgiving Holiday, I have come back obsessed with the musical variety shows that air on The Filipino Channel (or "TFC" for the already initiated). I mentioned TFC variety shows briefly in my post from last week. If my younger cousins didn't have the TV on MTV, Fuse or BET, then my aunties had it on TFC.
I watched so much TFC, I returned to the Bay Area wanting to get TFC at home (Melissa would love that), just so I can immerse myself in Tagalog and maybe learn to speak better by osmosis. Buddha help me, I can't remember the name of the fat, old, gay guy who's supposed to be the Filipino version of Simon from American Idol. (I don't know about you, but if I had to choose between getting a verbal beatdown from some ornery British guy or a Filipino queen, I'd go with Simon. It's hard to argue with a diva.)
But I digress.
I have always know that American-born (or Canadian-born) Filipinos sometimes go to the Philippines and become big stars. Filipinos call this "balikbayan star." In order to become a big balikbayan star, (assuming one doesn't speak Tagalog very well), one would start out as a dancer on a musical variety show, then become one of the featured singer/dancers. After getting a better handle of Tagalog (from singing OPM, Original Pilipino Music), they might also star in a novela (soap opera), and from there they become a "triple threat" (dancer, singer, actor).
From what I've observed, you don't necessarily have to be talented to make it in the Motherland. As long as you have light skin (look mestizo [mixed/hapa]), can say a few words in Tagalog, and are cute--you TOO could be a balikbayan superstar! You'll totally be groomed to become not only a bongga (fabulous) superstar, but more Filipino-Filipino (you'll do interviews in English, but speak with an exaggerated Filipino accent).
I know this phenomenon (balikbayan star) isn't specific to Filipinos or the Philippines, because I know of Canto-pop singers (and singing groups) in Hong Kong that are American, and seen documentaries about young South Asians (from Canada or the States) trying to break into Bollywood. Aside from my "Filipino-ness," I think the main reason this phenomenon is so interesting is because of the deeper social implications of this "karaoke culture."
Why is it always Filipinos playing the part of Asian minstrel? Go anywhere in Asia and you'll always find a hotel or bar/club where there's a Filipino band or Filipino singers, and they can mimic American music so well, you'd think you were listening to the original. Why is Karaoke Culture taken to the extreme in the Philippines? I would love to do a study on this, so don't you steal my idea!
As much as this "phenomenon" shames me, I admit that I eat it up just as my aunties do. What this says about me, I don't know. (Okay: Hyprocrite.) Although I do consider myself to be somewhat of a hipster, I embrace my geekiness: I love going out to sing karaoke with my friends, I actually like to listen to Destiny's Child, and (gasp!) I have finally found pleasure in watching musical variety shows on TFC. I don't like watching the singers dress up like Cyndi Lauper or Stevie Wonder, singing "True Colors" or "Ribbon in the Sky." And I can't stand to watch singers try to knock out Justin Timberlake, Kelis (yes, "Milkshake"), or Ciara--basically all the music that's on urban radio in the States at the moment. (I cringe when I see one of these mestizo singers say the word "nigga" or American slang, because it's a part of the song.) But the cornball in me loves to hear good singers belt out those ballads.
On Sunday night, while eating dinner, TFC was showing a (recorded) live concert from San Francisco's Civic Center Plaza. It was dubbed "Night of Champions" and featured singers who won previous Star in a Million or Star Circle Quest competitions (the Philippines' versions of American Idol). All my aunties were like, "Where is that concert taking place?" I could easily identify City Hall in the background, so I said, "That's definitely San Francisco." As the camera panned on the crowd, showing this mass of Filipinos in the audience, I joked, "I bet you all of the Excelsior District, Daly City and Vallejo came to represent." Being with SoCal Filipinos, nobody appreciated my joke.
As much as I rag on this Karaoke Culture thing, I'm a microphone hog when it comes to karaoke, so I have to admit that the latent "diva" in me wouldn't mind being one of those triple threat wannabes. I could get down with being one of those "Kikay Girls," "Hot Babes" or "Sex Bomb Dancers" on ASAP Mania or MTB Mga Saya-Saya. Maybe in another lifetime.
Posted by Audrey at 9:11 AM | Comments (8) | TrackBack
Nice story on DJ and record producer Dan "the Automator" Nakamura in the San Francisco Chronicle the other day. It's great to see some coverage of the Bay Area's vibrant Asian American arts and music scene in the mainstream press. (Full disclosure: The Chronicle is my employer.)
Posted by harry at 1:38 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Nice story on DJ and record producer Dan "the Automator" Nakamura in the San Francisco Chronicle the other day. It's great to see some coverage of the Bay Area's vibrant Asian American arts and music scene in the mainstream press. (Full disclosure: The Chronicle is my employer.)
Posted by harry at 1:38 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Nice story on DJ and record producer Dan "the Automator" Nakamura in the San Francisco Chronicle the other day. It's great to see some coverage of the Bay Area's vibrant Asian American arts and music scene in the mainstream press. (Full disclosure: The Chronicle is my employer.)
Posted by harry at 1:38 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
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